


From a Certain Point of View

by SkylaDoragono



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Implied Torture, Manipulation, Skywalker Family Feels, The Force is Eldritch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2020-06-24 12:44:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19723918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylaDoragono/pseuds/SkylaDoragono
Summary: The same story, from four different points of view.  After the disaster that was Cymoon, Luke volunteers for a special mission to Coruscant, with horrifying results.





	1. Palpatine

**Author's Note:**

> I originally planned for this to be a one shot, but it ended up taking on a mind of its own, and evolved into a tribute to a fan fic I spent my high school years reading almost daily called "About Turn". This isn't going to be written in the same tone in that story, however; expect varying chapter lengths, and for some events to not entirely make sense until the very end.

The Force was _vibrant_ with a kind of light that had not been seen or felt on Coruscant for almost twenty years, and it was distracting enough to pull Emperor Sheev Palpatine away from his work. It was not necessarily _odd_ to feel the occasional spark of light on the planet — after all, certain beings were more dispositioned to the light than others. Such beings were _weak,_ however; simple creatures with simple minds, there and gone in the blink of an eye, and barely worth paying much attention to. _This,_ however… this was brilliant and blinding, more so than any Jedi that had ever graced the old Order.

And whatever it was, it was in _pain._

Palpatine absently licked his lips, drinking in the feeling of whomever it was writhing in agony, their presence in the Force continuing to _burn_ as if setting the pain itself aflame. It was intriguing, and before long he found himself getting up, abandoning the many reports he needed to finish reading through and taking up his cane. He could feel the surprise rumble through his guard as he moved, none of them expecting it, but that did not keep two of them falling in line behind him as they were trained. It maintained the image of a frail old leader, marred by the attempts of the Jedi to kill him, a man that needed to be protected for the glory of the Empire to be maintained.

It was as far from the truth as it could be, of course.

As usual, he paid their presence no mind, following the sensation of that burning light down into the depths of his palace. The occasional coutier would stop, would praise him, but he quickly deflected them, continuing downward until he reached the detention areas… though _torture chambers_ was a much more apt description. Such chambers were in the palace itself purely to feed into the Dark Side, allowing the torment and death to make the Darkness fester and swell, not only giving him more power but empowering those that were also inclined toward the dark. It was fairly quiet, surprisingly so, considering he could feel that brilliant light flickering in agony, and it actually took him a moment to locate which cell it was coming from.

The scene he walked in on was fairly typical: a young man, strapped to a torture rack, with a commander demanding answers to questions as the boy was shocked, jabbed, and otherwise put through pain that any other would have crumbled under by now. Palpatine stood back and watched, marveling as the boy’s presence remained strong through it all, even as the pain finally relented and the commander grabbed the boy by the chin, forcing his head up as he sagged against his bonds.

“For the last time, _boy,”_ the man snapped, gloved fingers digging into his ashen skin hard enough to bruise. “What were you and your Rebel _friends_ doing here?”

Ah, captured Rebels, was it? Bold of them to think that just destroying the Death Star and the factory on Cymoon was enough for them to try and make a run at the seat of Imperial power. Yet before Palpatine could internally smirk at such a ludicrous endeavor, the boy managed to get his eyes open, and in that moment, everything in the galaxy stopped.

He knew those eyes.

He had seen those eyes every day for over a decade, watched them grow from the gaze of a curious boy, a boy burdened with expectations to people who had no idea how to handle him, watched them turn into the eyes of a man, and then into a general hardened by war. There was more than just that in those eyes, however; there was kindness and wisdom hidden there, something that could be cultivated, that could match the other side of what those eyes promised with just the right nudge.

Palpatine knew this boy, knew exactly where he came from, and was not entirely surprised by the gasped out reply he had for the commander.

“G-go… go kiss a… w-wookiee!”

Yes, he even had his father’s sense of humor, which was not helping him much at the moment. The commander let out an irritated noise, grabbing the boy by his hair and for a moment looking like he was going to shove his face into the torture rack.

“Now, now, commander,” Palpatine began, enjoying the sight of the commander nearly jumping out of his skin. He let go of the boy, leaving him hanging limply from his bonds as the man stood at attention. The Emperor waved it off, though he was barely paying attention to the man.

“Leave us.”

The commander looked like he was going to object, but one look, and the man swallowed hard, like he realized trying to object would not end well for him. He bowed, leaving the room, his guards following behind, leaving Palpatine alone with the boy. For a moment, he just observed him as he hung there, breathing hard and trying to pull himself together, his light burning brilliantly in the Force. Finally, he stepped forward, reaching a hand out to gently push the boy’s head up. He let out a groan, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to reorient himself, before he finally blinked them open, staring right at Palpatine.

“You are a Skywalker, are you not?” he practically purred. The boy tried to pull away, but Palpatine was having none of it, holding his face tighter, looking at it from every angle he could, given how the boy was suspended.

“Yes…” he continued, a contemplative tone creeping into his voice. “I see your parents in you, boy.”

“What do you care?” the boy spat out, his voice surprisingly steady, despite the torture he had been through. “You’re just going to have me killed, like you had Vader kill my father!”

Palpatine stilled at that, the entirety of that statement _completely_ laughable. Perhaps a Jedi had told him such a thing, perhaps even Kenobi. How kind of the old fool to give him such an _easy_ way of manipulating the boy.

A somber look came to his face as he released the young man’s face. He looked like he wanted to sag against his restraints, but he held himself up, giving him a curious — though mistrustful — look. The boy would take some time, but he was certain he would be easy to control, perhaps easier than a certain someone _else._

“My boy, your father was a hero,” he said softly, fondness creeping into his voice. “For the galaxy, and for me as well.”

The distrust flared in the boy’s presence, and he gestured peaceably in response.

“I knew your father since he was a boy,” he explained softly. “He would often come to me for advice, advice the Jedi Council was ill equipped to give him.”

He folded his hands over his cane, a grim look coming to his face as he studied the boy. His distrust had eased, a flare of curiosity sparking to life in those blue eyes.

“It was the Jedi that killed your father that night,” he continued softly. “The only reason I lived was because your father dealt a crippling blow to the last of them before he died. In vengeance, I bent that _despicable_ Jedi to my will, creating Darth Vader as you know him, making him serve me.”

He paused, allowing disgust to twitch at his lip.

“Though with enough free will to choose _how_ he does so,” he concluded dismissively, his displeasure obvious.

The boy stared at him, clearly not sure what to make of what he just heard. Palpatine allowed him a moment, silently daring him to think he lied, before continuing.

“Your father was my greatest general, and the most powerful master of the Force I had ever met. He deserved much more than his fate.”

He paused again, allowing his words to sink in, before continuing once more.

“I see much of him in you,” he said softly. “Him, and your mother.”

A lost look came to the boy’s face, not sure what to make of being told how much the man he had been told to hate honored his parents. Palpatine reached up, pressing his fingers under the boy’s chin, tilting his head toward him.

“Child, allow me the honor of training you,” he offered softly.

“I’m _not_ learning the Dark Side,” came the expected, almost automatic, response. Palpatine let out a faint laugh at that, shaking his head.

“You will find that there is very little difference between the light and the dark, young Skywalker,” he replied. “Your father understood that very well.”

The boy hesitated, and he could feel his resolve waning, with a calculating undercurrent, thinking of how he could use the situation to his advantage. So very like his father; the least he could do was offer him an incentive.

“Allow me to propose this,” he began. “Learn from me, be my apprentice as your father would have had the Jedi not killed him, and when your training is complete, I will permit you to kill Lord Vader as you see fit.”

Emotions clearly flicked across the boy’s face. Interest was there most of all, along with suspicion and a faint thread of hope. The boy held himself back from agreeing outright, narrowing his eyes at him.

“And then what?”

Smart boy; smarter than he was giving him credit for. Still, Palpatine was the one in control, and he knew there was just one little thing that could push the boy.

“I will allow you to decide that when the time comes,” he replied. “After all, there will be many opportunities for you by then.”

And if there was anything that could bait a Skywalker, it was the prospect of _freedom._ He could tell the boy was moved, but instead of waiting or demanding a response, Palpatine stepped away.

“I will permit you time to consider,” he said, turning toward the door. “You will know how to tell me your decision.”

~.oOOo.~

It was bare hours later he sensed a powerful disturbance in the Force, on that felt vaguely familiar. When Palpatine was able to place it, he let out an annoyed scoff; count on Kenobi to find more than one way to fake his death. He was about to go down to where the boy was being held and deal with the nuisance himself, when the com rang, showing it was the warden requesting him. He almost ignored it, but a whisper for patience had him pause, accepting the call instead.

“Yes, warden?”

“Your Excellency, you requested to be notified if the prisoner did anything… unusual,” the man replied, sounding utterly confused.

“Patch your feed to my station, warden,” he ordered. The screen rose from his desk automatically, coming alight with a view of the boy in his cell, and he could see why the warden had been so confused. To anyone else, it would have seemed like the boy was talking to thin air, but he could see the faint outline of a man standing there, watching the boy as he paced like a caged animal.

“When were you going to tell me?” the boy demanded. “Were you just going to use me and toss me aside when I got what you wanted?!”

Palpatine smiled, able to feel the boy’s anger easily, even though he was _far_ above the holding cells. He could not hear Kenobi’s response — while the camera could pick up his images, it did not seem able to pick up his words. Still, he could gather what was said well enough from the boy’s expression, a cold look frosting over his blue eyes. He stopped his pacing, his hands balling into fists at his sides…

And the whole _palace_ shuddered.

Palpatine rose slightly in his seat, watching in fascination as the walls of the boy’s cell bucked and bowed, and the ghost of Kenobi flickered, a pained look coming to his face as he nearly doubled over. He reached a hand out, begging for Luke to stop (as near as he could tell), but the Force only _surged_ from the boy, closing in around Kenobi. The spirit flickered wildly, the lights in the cell dimming as the ceiling started to cave, before Kenobi suddenly _burst,_ the very essence of his being ceasing to exist within the Force itself.

Everything stopped as the boy collapsed to his knees, breathing hard as choked sobs of pain and anger filled the feed. It was a moment before he quieted, his head bowed as he calmed. Yet something was brewing in the back of Palpatine’s mind, a quiet anger, one that was brimming with the promise of the apprentice he had _longed_ for.

A smile came to his face as the boy looked up at the camera, looking through it, like he was staring directly at Palpatine.

_Master…_

The boy sounded unsure, but only in the sense that he had never sent out such mental communication before. No need not to reward the boy for it.

“Warden, have the boy treated in the medical wing,” he ordered. “I will collect him from there.”

~.oOOo.~

Faking the boy’s death had been a necessity.

He had made him watch as the broken Rebel they had chosen to wear his face was marched out in public, kept his eyes on him as the man took the punishment for his crimes. Very little had been left of the man by the time the execution squad had stopped firing, one shot for every life taken on the Death Star, and the boy had not flinched once. He was submitting well to him and his teachings…

Almost too well.

Palpatine narrowed his eyes at the young man that was now kneeling before him, waiting patiently for that day’s teachings. There was every possibility that the boy was pretending, that he was just biding his time, waiting for the opportunity to strike. After all, he had sensed how calculating he was, knowing the boy was constantly thinking of a way to use his situation to his advantage. He would need to take that away from him; push him so far over the edge of darkness that he would never be able to find the light again.

“Do you know what this building used to be, my young apprentice?”

The boy lifted his head, only so he could be heard clearly. His eyes remained cast downward, not looking up at him unless permitted.

“It was the Jedi Temple, master,” he answered promptly.

“And before it was the temple?”

The boy faltered at that, a frown coming to his face.

“I do not know, master,” he replied, though there was no fear in his voice at admitting it, as if knowing there was no way he could have known. Palpatine nodded absently; the lack of fear in the boy was interesting, given how fearful his father had been.

“In times long forgotten, this was a Sith shrine, my young apprentice,” he explained. “When the Jedi first invaded this planet, they slaughtered the Sith that worshipped here, and built their temple over their remains.”

He leaned forward in his seat, reaching out to press two fingers under the boy’s chin, lifting his face up a little more. He took that as permission to look up at him, and blue eyes flicked toward him, intensely curious.

“I want you to reach out to that shrine,” he ordered softly. “Touch the ancient power that rests here, and let it become a part of you.”

The boy hesitated, and the intense curiosity on his face was the indication that his hesitance was out of insecurity. Palpatine smiled fondly, fingers shifting to stroke the boy’s cheek in some facsimile of reassurance. It had the desired effect, bringing a smile to the boy’s face as he leaned back to rest on his legs, closing his eyes in concentration.

Outwardly, nothing was happening, but Palpatine could feel the boy stretching his senses far, far below him, to parts of the palace long forgotten by time. The moment he grasped the first tendrils of darkness, a _hum_ shot through the entire structure, vibrating the walls around them. The boy did not seem to notice, feeling like he was holding onto that bit of darkness in wonder, marvelling at it. Then, he let out a soft sigh, his body sinking to the floor as he allowed his conscious self to be taken, slipping down further than even Palpatine could sense.

It was barely a second later that the darkness from deep within the planet _rose_ in response, engulfing the entire area in an invisible layer of withering despair that only the Dark Side could bring. He could hear people outside crying in pain, writhing in mental agony, but his focus was on the boy, trying to find where he went.

His presence returned a moment later as the darkness receded, his brilliant light still strong, but different in a way that Palpatine could not put into words. If it was possible for the dark to have a light, then the boy was it, especially when he finally stirred, eyes opening to show the blue had been destroyed, blood shot yellow coming to settle on Palpatine.

“Master…?”

It took him a moment to realize he was smiling, and he settled back in his throne, pleased.

“You are doing _quite_ well, my young apprentice,” he intoned softly. “Perhaps soon, you will be ready for that which you desire…”

~.oOOo.~

The boy was everything he had ever hoped for.

Palpatine could not help but make the observation as he watched him through the Force. He learned quickly, much like his father; he absorbed all the lessons he had for him and displayed that knowledge with a brilliant flare. The boy was not a towering warrior like his father, but what he lacked in battle prowess, he made up for in pure, unbridled _power._

And what was better, he could mold the boy however he wished. The boy had not questioned it when he requested he start wearing a mask, putting on the offered item without complaint and going a step further, concealing himself with dark robes to blend into the shadows of the palace. He was at Palpatine’s command when he called for him, and more than once, he tested the limits of this, bringing Rebel prisoners to his throne, questioning them personally, before ordering their deaths.

The boy never hesitated once.

It was after once such instance that he bade the boy to sit beside him as the guards cleaned up what little mess there was left. One thing the boy had over his father was neat and clean efficiency, something that was preferable over Vader’s grandstanding.

He absently pat the boy’s head as the guards left, and in a rare show of independence, the boy lowered his hood. Palpatine paused, raising an eyebrow as he even removed his mask, before he threaded his fingers through the boy’s golden hair. He said nothing, his yellowed eyes fixed on where the Rebel had been, expression unreadable.

“What are you thinking, my young apprentice?” he asked the boy softly.

The response was almost immediate:

“When will you have me truly prove myself, master?”

Palpatine raised an eyebrow, impressed by the boldness he was displaying, and suspicious of it as well.

“Whatever do you mean, child?”

“Vader.”

The name sent a shudder through the room, and for the barest of moments, Palpatine could feel nothing but overwhelming _hate,_ the hate the boy kept pent up inside, focused on a singular target. He smiled as his fingers played with the boy’s hair like he was a good _pet,_ amused by the situation. The boy finally turned to look up at him, yellow eyes intense, near _lusting_ for the chance to prove himself.

“He is my last test, isn’t he, master?”

Palpatine stilled his hand, almost curious. There was one thing he had not tested the boy on, something he had not considered. But his father had a gift for it, though it was uncontrolled; perhaps the son would be more fortunate.

“Look to the Force, my young apprentice,” he ordered. “Let it flow through you, let it show you what is to come.”

The boy tilted his head curiously, before he obediently closed his eyes. The Force surged around him, flowing through him with all the ease of taking a breath, and when he had his answer, he breathed deeply, a faint smile coming to his face.

“He will come to me,” he answered his own question, opening his eyes. “And when he does, I will kill him.”

Palpatine let out a pleased noise, what the boy said lining up with his own foresight. He leaned back on his throne, absently petting the boy’s head once again.

“And then what, my young apprentice?”

The boy turned his gaze up to him then, a curious tilt to his head.

“Isn’t that for you to decide, my master?”

~.oOOo.~

Vader took a step he had not expected.

Palpatine frowned as he tossed the report onto his desk, the future shifting to the point that uncertainty was clouding his sight. Several possible futures laid out before him now, many of which he could not see a conclusion, as they branched off into many more possibilities. It was… disconcerting, to say the least, but…

But in every one of them, he had the boy.

His senses drifted to him, clinging to the child possessively as he hid himself in the shadows of his throne room. This boy, this powerful, willing servant, was everything he needed to ensure his Sith Empire was eternal. With this boy, with his impressive strength, he would achieve what no other before him could.

The boy emerged from the shadows then, bowing formally, before sinking to his knees before him and removing his mask. His corrupted gaze immediately turned up to him, and Palpatine found himself pausing at the knowledge he saw behind those eyes.

“You understand what I want for you, don’t you, my young apprentice?” he asked softly.

“I do, my master,” he answered.

“And how did you come to realize this?”

“I saw it.”

It was a simple answer, but not unexpected. The boy had so much power; just because _his_ sight was clouded, did not mean that the boy’s was.

“You have given me everything you know, and more than that,” the boy continued softly. “Any other master would have given me a name by now, but you have a higher honor for me.”

Palpatine found it very difficult to look away from the boy’s eyes, the intensity behind them drawing him in.

“I have no name, because I will have yours,” the boy stated, and as he did, Palpatine could see it become reality. “When I execute Vader, I will be ready for you to consume ‘me’ and take my body, my master. The galaxy will be eternally yours.”

Palpatine leaned back in his throne as the boy donned his mask again, everything in the future aligning as it was meant to.

“Then, my young apprentice, we should not delay in drawing out the traitor…”


	2. Leia

Leia Organa, former princess of the now gone Alderaan, was absolutely miserable.

She had been holding on since her planet had been destroyed before her eyes, using her rage and her need for vengeance and the success they had at Yavin to keep herself moving forward, if only because if she looked back she knew she would fall apart. Yet despite that, the next big mission after Yavin had been an unmitigated disaster; true they managed to destroy the weapons factory at Cymoon, but it had come at a terrible price. The slaves they found in the depths of the facility had been all but wiped out, and all three of them had not come out of the battle looking very good. Luke had taken everything particularly hard, and she had seen him training with a remote out of pure frustration more than once in the week that followed, trying desperately to improve his skills with his lightsaber.

And then he went off on that mission.

His last words to her had played over and over again in her mind numerous times in the last few weeks, to the point they made her ears burn just thinking about them.

_ I need to do this, Leia. I need to prove that maybe trying to be like my father isn’t a waste of time, that Ben didn’t die for nothing. _

Leia did not want to think that with Luke gone, not even  _ atoms  _ left of him on the execution block he had been strapped down to, General Kenobi really had died for nothing. Hell, she did not even want to think about Luke just being  _ gone;  _ that she had to watch helplessly as he was dragged out in front of a jeering crowd on Coruscant, far from anyone that cared for him. That he just hung in the hands of the guards that were handling him as his crime and sentence were read aloud for everyone to hear, before he was forced against the slab and…

She pressed a hand to her eyes as the bartender slipped her another drink, and she shifted just enough to mumble a thanks, before grabbing the glass and downing it.  _ Nothing  _ had been okay after witnessing that, and she did not even remember what happened immediately after, just that Han had found her an hour later holding shorn bits of her hair in her hands and staring blankly at a wall. Leia had not even really been aware of it when he quietly packed her away on the  _ Falcon,  _ finally pulling herself together to the sound of Chewie woofing softly as he attempted to fix what was left of her hair.

Han ended up taking her with him to Tatooine, insisting that he pay off his debt to Jabba the Hutt before they do anything else Rebellion-like. He did not seem to want to admit it, but Luke’s execution had affected him too — had to, if his first reaction was to clear out anything that might have come back to haunt him later. She tried to say something, to insist they go back as soon as possible, but he would not let her.

“Go to the cantina,” he had said. “Relax, I’ll take care of Jabba. You just stay out of trouble.”

He must have thought that she would be fine by herself, and he was probably right. She looked and felt so miserable that everything about her said, “Stay away, I don’t want to be bothered.” So far it had been working well for her, at least until a woman suddenly slid into the seat beside her, waving down the bartender for a drink. Leia glanced in her direction, taking in the short, dark hair half hidden under a pilot’s cap and scruffy clothes that looked like they had not been clean since they were new, and promptly ignored her. If she was not going to bother her, what was the point in trying to say anything, right?

Unfortunately, the woman seemed interested in conversing.

“You look like you’ve had a bad week,” she quipped, her legs absently dangling back and forth just above the floor. “I know how that feels; my boss has been running me ragged.”

Leia let out a non-committal noise, hoping that would deter the woman. It did not.

“I mean, first he has me run all the way to Geonosis to find an old droid factory, right?” she continued. “And of course there was a queen attached to it, so we had to fight her and all the creepy half droids she spawned. Then he makes me wait around while he goes to bust some heads, like I’m some kind of taxi service, and  _ then  _ he has me looking around Naboo for a guy responsible for the burial of some queen. Wild, hunh?”

“Wild,” Leia repeated in some vague semblance of agreement, hoping she sounded like she was not interested — which she definitely was not interested in this random woman’s problems. Even if she did, the woman  _ still  _ was not deterred, waving a hand exaggeratedly.

“Now he’s got me looking around this dustball for some princess he wants to meet up with,” she added, letting out a heavy sigh. Leia struggled not to stiffen, especially as the woman elbowed her playfully. “Hey, you know any princesses out on this rock?”

Leia just shook her head, trying to make it seem like she was still as disinterested as before, even though she was far from it now.  _ Now  _ she was on high alert, eyes quickly darting around the cantina, looking for anyone that might have stood out. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary for a dive like this, and the woman let out a loud laugh.

“Nah, like anyone with a title like that would come out here, right?” she replied, before downing her drink and paying. She hopped off her stool then, patting Leia on the back. “Welp, back to work. Hope your week gets better.”

Leia let out a faint noise, waiting for a moment, before she turned slightly to watch the woman leave, her eyes narrowed at her back. She was right about one thing, not many princesses would come out to a place like this; she had to be referring to her, and Leia was not entirely sure if the whole conversation had been an act or not. One thing was for certain, though: she needed to get back with Han, and they needed to get off this planet as soon as they could.

~.oOOo.~

It was sometime before Han returned, and by then Leia had slipped out of the bar, returning to the  _ Millenium Falcon  _ where she had hoped it would be safer, even if all it did was remind her of what was missing from their lives now. If anything, it certainly gave Han a start when he commed her after he finished with Jabba, and he could hear the fact that he wanted to yell at her in his voice as he told her to stay put. He still did not look too happy when he came up the ramp, though his expression sobered when she told him what happened at the bar.

“We should probably get going then, but…” he began, and his hesitation made Leia raise an eyebrow. “I uh… I found where the kid used to live. So uh… I rented a speeder. Figured you’d want to go.”

He did not need to say much more than that. They set out almost immediately, with the two of them traveling in relative silence, though Leia could feel him taking the occasional glance at her. He finally let out a faint noise, focusing on the endless desert before them.

“You know,” he began, shouting to be heard over the sound of the speeder’s engine, “this is the first time in ten years I don’t have to answer to a Hutt. Feels weird.”

Leia spared him a faint smile, hesitating a moment, before resting a hand over his. The action made him jump slightly, but a small, lopsided smile came to his face after a moment, and the silence continued, though less awkward than before. Still, it did nothing to ease the sense of loss that pervaded the area once they arrived at Luke’s old homestead. There was very little left of it; the dome of the outer shelter was still blackened from laser fire, and the dwelling pit below was already nearly filled with sand. Without nightly shielding, the desert winds had been quick to blow the sand in, very nearly erasing the homestead from existence.

Leia carefully got out of the speeder once Han brought it to a stop, her eyes drifting over the dome, before settling just before it. A small graveyard stood there, four markers standing untouched by the sand and scavengers. Two of them were old, older than the other two, and Leia clutched at her chest, feeling that enraged ache she had had since everything happened surface again. Luke must have buried his aunt and uncle himself; he had mentioned they died, but…

Leia fell to her knees before the markers, dimly aware of Han coming to stand beside her as the ache overwhelmed her. This was not fair; Luke had a happy, simple life before this. It was her fault he had suffered, just as it was her fault she let him go off on that mission… the mission that ended in…

“We…” she began, pausing to swallow around her grief. “We need to do something for him. Just… have some marking beside his family. That… that can be enough, right?”

Han opened his mouth to respond, when the sound of a ship overhead cut him off. Leia looked up, squinting against the sun as a  _ strange  _ vessel came down for a landing. It was hard to describe, like it was a combination of various ships somehow welded together into something that functioned, and not any specific make or model. Whatever it was, whomever was piloting it had to be very talented, or at least, one of the more cocky pilots in the galaxy, as they landed neatly right next to their rented speeder, without so much as making it rock.

Considering the audacity of the move and the strange woman from the bar, Leia was not shocked when Vader emerged from the ship. What did surprise her was the fact he barely paid them any mind, even with Han going for his blaster. Instead, he came to a stop at one of the gravestones — the one that seemed the most worn down from age. He stood before it, completely silent save for his respirator, before kneeling down, a hand going out to reverently touch the marker. His fingers moved almost diligently tracing out a name that had nearly completely faded from the marker before standing once again. His attention went to the homestead first, before finally settling on them a moment later, ignoring the blaster pointed toward him.

“You will find no solace for the boy’s death here,” he finally spoke. “The sands of this planet give nothing but pain.”

“Sounds a little like something else I know,” Han snapped back, angling himself so he stood between Vader and Leia. She had yet to move herself, despite the situation; she was not entirely sure why, but she did know part of it was because she just did not have the energy to be alarmed by this. “What do you care about the kid, anyway?”

Vader fell silent, and Leia felt something… odd. It was like being around Luke, but  _ different;  _ older, more painful. She got the distinct impression Vader’s eyes fell on her, before he turned away.

“I did not realize his importance,” he finally answered, and there was such an agonizing pain in his voice that even Han eased off, glancing back at Leia in confusion. She met his gaze, silently telling him that yes, this was the same person that had thoroughly ruined them at Cymoon, but…

Leia took a deep breath, hesitantly stepping forward. She had heard what Luke said, that Vader had murdered his father. This was not the behavior of a man that would murder someone, however; why care about the son and not the father?

“Who is Luke to you?” she asked softly, dimly aware of Han glancing at her in surprise and mild horror. He had already figured out what she was trying to get at by asking that question, and when Vader’s helmet finally moved away from them, she instinctively knew that he was going to reply with what she was expecting.

“He is my son.”

~.oOOo.~

Something felt wrong.

Leia was dimly aware of Han bickering, not pleased with the fact that they willingly went aboard the strange ship the equally strange woman from the bar was apparently the captain of. She was Doctor Chelli Aphra, and her ship was the  _ Ark Angel,  _ names Han apparently knew well, never mind that Aphra did not seem to know him. The two of them were bickering back and forth, though Leia stayed silent, leaning against a wall opposite of Vader, her focus on him. He did not seem to be paying attention to them either, not that she could blame him.

“Like you’re not the kind of guy that constantly gets into stupid trouble either, Solo,” Aphra was replying to something Han said that Leia missed, waving her hand dismissively.

“Hey, I paid off my the last of my trouble,” Han shot back. “How much debt are you in now?”

Aphra paused at that, a strange expression coming to her face. “Don’t make me put a number to that…”

The triumphant look on Han’s face lasted all of a second, his snappy response cut off as Vader suddenly moved. Even in the large workshop they were in, the Dark Lord took up so much space that Han had to go scrambling out of the way as Vader approached Leia.

She looked up at him… but could not  _ see  _ him anymore, could not see anything except for a deep, profound darkness. Leia started, wanting to stumble away, but she found herself rooted to the spot. Fear clawed at her spine, but it quickly faded, a sense of reassurance rushing over her.

A kind of reassurance that felt familiar.

“Luke?” she found herself asking softly, and the darkness stirred, cracks of light slipping through. “Luke, is that you?”

_ “Leia?” _ Luke’s soft voice echoed in her head, sounding confused, like he was not sure how she could reach him. Honestly, she was not sure herself, and would have really liked an answer instead of the feeling of being shoved away that she got.

_ “Don’t follow me,” _ his voice whispered softly as the darkness closed around the light.  _ “I need to do this on my own.” _

“Do what?” she demanded, but the darkness swallowed everything; the light, and even herself. She raised her hands, trying to bat it away as if it were a physical thing she could grab. “Luke!”

But Luke was not there, and neither was the darkness. Instead she found herself face to face with Vader, who was holding her wrists in his hands firmly, as if to keep her from flailing at him. He stared at her for a long moment, and she could almost feel his curiosity as he continued to hold on to her, as if making sure she would not try to strike at him.

“You are Force sensitive.”

The declaration made her flush in annoyance, and she shoved herself away from him, finally getting him to let go of her.

“I am not,” she stated stubbornly, only to hesitate a moment later. Force sensitive or not, there was no denying  _ something  _ connected with her just then. “But I… I heard Luke.”

“You what?” Han replied, the disbelief in his voice obvious.

“I  _ heard  _ Luke,” she repeated, as if that were enough to make whatever she experienced real. “I heard his voice. He said not to follow him; that he needed to do something on his own.”

Vader fell silent, save for his breathing, and Han exchanged an uncertain glance with Aphra, who shrugged.

“Could look at the execution footage again,” she suggested. “Maybe find evidence it was altered?”

Vader finally took his eyes off her then, focusing on Aphra. To her credit, the woman did not flinch under his gaze; she was either very used to being in his presence, or maybe a little crazy. Leia was fairly certain it was the later.

“Go,” he ordered. “Inform me if there is anything that would make your analysis easier.”

Aphra snapped off a salute, though she spared Leia a worried glance before scooting over to where a computer took up the majority of one of the walls. She could not blame the woman for giving her that look; she was fairly certain at this point she was going crazy.

~.oOOo.~

_ You are Force sensitive. _

Vader’s voice echoed in Leia’s head as she sat at the  _ Falcon _ ’s holotable, absently tracing the checkered pattern of the board with her fingers. Chewie had brought the ship over a few hours ago at Han’s request, in no mood to share the same space as Aphra while she was working. In addition to the archaeologist, there were two droids aboard the ship that… well, to put it mildly, Han had not quite ingratiated himself to. He had to leave the ship quickly as the protocol-like droid brandished fingers with retractable needles at him, threatening to shut him up for a few hours. So he called the  _ Falcon  _ over for them to stay in while Aphra worked; it was better than staying outside in the waning sun, with the desert soon to give over to the nightly cold.

Unfortunately, they had little to do but wait, and waiting was the absolute worst right now. Luke’s voice echoed in her head when she was not thinking about what Vader said, and she could not get the image of the darkness swallowing his light out of her head. It was a moment before Leia finally let out a sigh, thumping her head against the holotable, trying to find  _ anything  _ that would take her mind off of everything that was going on. Her eyes drifted to the comlink clipped to her belt, and a terrible idea wormed its way into her head.

She deliberated with herself briefly, before she pulled the comlink off her belt, standing up just enough so she could set it on the far side of the table from her before sitting back down. With that accomplished, she… well, did not know what to do next. When she saw Luke trying to use the Force, he would just reach out his hand and screw up his face, like he was thinking really hard. That… did not seem right, but it was the only thing she had to go on at the moment, and so she did it.

Not surprisingly, the comlink did not budge an inch.

“The Force does not work like that,” an amused rumble came from the direction of the cockpit hallway, and Leia near jumped out of her skin, glaring up at Vader as he stood in the doorway.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied stubbornly, folding her arms over her chest and turning away. Leia was not sure what inspired such a childish response, but it seemed it was enough to give Vader pause. At least for a moment; in the next he was approaching her, and she jerked away defensively, but he merely plucked the comlink from the table, holding it far from her in the palm of his large hand.

“Close your eyes, princess,” he instructed, and Leia shot him a withering glare in response. This was not happening; she was  _ not  _ getting lessons from Darth Vader of all people! She did not care  _ who  _ he was related to! But he refused to budge, and it drew a sigh of annoyance out of her as she finally closed her eyes. She was only going along with this to prove him wrong, that was all!

“Let go of your conscious self,” he continued, “what you believe to be your reality, and only focus on the shape and feel of the comlink.”

What was that even supposed to mean? Leia let out an annoyed noise, scrunching her nose up as she thought about the comlink. Of course, she knew what it looked like; she could see it in her mind’s eye, and she held it enough in the last few weeks to know what it felt like. She must have been doing something right, because Vader continued:

“Now, take that image, and imagine it moving. Let your mind remember the feel of it in your hand, and make it a reality.”

Was everything involving the Force so vague? Leia let out a huff, trying to picture the comlink in her hand, but nothing was happening. She was about to open her eyes, to rub in his masked face that she was right when she denied being Force sensitive, when she instinctively  _ felt  _ something heading toward her. Her hand shot up immediately, her fingers closing around the thing as she caught it… and it felt just like the comlink. Her eyes immediately flew open, staring at the small hand unit in wonder.

“As I said, you are Force sensitive.”

Part of her should not have been surprised by this, not really. She had always had a sense of things that others, not even career politicians like her father, had not had. Of course, she always thought it was just a natural affinity for her work, but… she doubted many politicians could claim they went through torture at the hands of Darth Vader and not only live to talk about it, but give nothing away as well.

Speaking of… she pursed her lips together, clutching the comlink to her chest as she turned a determined gaze up to him. She knew well what Vader did to Force sensitives; the stories were often whispered in dark corners of the senate building, more than a few people afraid of the dark lord’s towering image, not to mention his reputation.

“And what do you plan to do with this information, Vader?” she demanded hotly. For a moment, it seemed like Vader had been focusing on something else, and her words had broken him out of his thoughts. He folded his arms over his chest, looking down at her for an overly long minute.

“...keep you as far away from the Emperor as possible,” he finally stated, drawing a curious look from her. “He will consider you either a threat to his power or something he can use, neither of which will be beneficial to anyone.”

“Especially if he has Luke…” Leia found herself saying, not… sure why she did. Luke was dead, she had seen unquestionable evidence of that, and she doubted Aphra would be able to prove otherwise. Even still, she could almost picture how badly that could go, with the Emperor in command of the two of them, largely ignorant of their power, molding them into the kind of Force users that  _ he  _ wanted…

A beep from the communication console cut the mental image off before it could bloom into a full nightmare, and Vader immediately crossed the distance to it, flipping it on.

“You found something?” he asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question. Aphra’s flippant voice answered him immediately.

“Boss, I went the extra mile for you, I’ll have you know. Footage of the execution wasn’t doctored in the slightest, buuuuuuuuuut… I did comparison facial scans of the kid’s wanted posters and the clear shots of him in the video, and the match was absolutely perfect.”

Leia let out a stricken noise at that, feeling like she was watching Luke dying all over again. Vader glanced back at her briefly, before he directed an irritated growl at the console.

_ “How  _ is this helpful?”

It was fairly easy to imagine Aphra rolling her eyes as she answered. “Boss, you  _ never  _ get a perfect match from one holo to another. There’s always differences in the face, whether it’s made by light or expression, blah-di-blah, you get the idea. And since we know the footage wasn’t doctored, that means—”

“The person killed was…” Vader finished for her, a sort of distant tone to his voice. Leia could understand why; she could feel hope rising in her own chest, now that she knew the horrific image they had all seen was an apparent lie. Luke was alive, and…

...and clearly in grave danger, given where he was.

“Okay, that’s it,” came Han’s voice suddenly, and her head snapped up to see him standing in the doorway leading to the cockpit. “Doc, we’re sending your Dark Lord over. We need to head off.”

Leia’s gaze flicked over to Vader as he seemed to stiffen, and his mask tilted toward her after a moment. She was not sure what he was thinking, but she could almost feel something  _ shift,  _ and she could not help but wonder if it was because of the Force.

“No,” Vader finally said. “I will accompany you.”

Han, who had turned to head back to the cockpit after his statement, stopped so fast he practically left skid marks on the floor.

“Sorry, what?”

Leia stood then, clutching the comlink a little tighter in her hand as she gave him a wary look. This could not be happening right now, right? She was imagining this right now… right?

“You’re  _ defecting?”  _ she asked, her tone making it clear how insane she thought that was. Who would ever believe that Darth Vader, right hand man of the Emperor, would ever outwardly defect to the Alliance? And yet, even as she thought as much, she  _ knew  _ that was exactly what was happening, even before he tilted his head toward her again.

“There are certain things worth rebelling for, princess.”

~.oOOo.~

Leia could feel uncertainty churning in her gut as she felt the  _ Falcon  _ come out of hyperspace, knowing that they were at the current main base, and not sure what she was even going to do when they landed. She had commed ahead, of course, and informed Mon Mothma of what was happening. Of course, the other woman had been  _ extremely  _ alarmed, and cautioned Leia that this was a  _ clear  _ trap, but… Leia could  _ feel  _ that was not true, that Vader was genuine in what he was doing. It was insane and she never would have believed it real if it were not for the fact that Luke was his son.

Family made you do crazy things. She knew that very well.

Vader was standing at the loading ramp, waiting for them to land, and they could hear Han arguing over the com from down the hall, but he did not seem to be paying it any mind. Leia watched him for a moment, as if expecting to see him take up his lightsaber and kill them all at any moment, but she knew that was not going to happen; Vader was serious about this, and he was not about to go back on it.

Leia folded her arms over her chest, an uneasy feeling settling over her heart. She knew what she needed to do, even though every part of her was screaming not to.

“...I’ll stay by your side the entire time.”

Vader turned toward her, his helmet tilted at a curious angle. She looked up at him, hardening her gaze.

“You don’t deserve it, not after everything you’ve done,” she stated, making absolutely sure he understood where she was coming from. “But I’m staying with you through all of this.”

“And why would you do that?” Vader returned, and while it was a clear challenge, there was not any malice in his deep voice, merely curiosity. This was not even a hard question for Leia to answer.

“Because Luke would do the same if our positions were reversed,” she replied. “And I can’t just sit by knowing that he’s in trouble.”

Vader stared at her for an overly long moment, before he nodded.

They were landing before long, docking with one of the main ships of the fleet, and when they left the  _ Falcon…  _ well, Vader was about as well received as Leia expected he would be. Which, of course, was to say not that well received at all. Even though she had warned everyone  _ well  _ in advance what was happening, everyone onboard was certainly prepared for it to be an elaborate trap, with every possible blaster trained on Vader as he strode off the  _ Falcon  _ like he was on one of his Star Destroyers. A million thoughts ran through Leia’s head as she followed beside him, wondering how many people were looking at her like she was a traitor right now. Han was certainly making enough noise behind them to make it seem like she should not be where she was right now, but she was not about to pull away.

Mon Mothma herself was at the end of a long line of armed fighters. She held herself as tall as Leia always knew her to do, clearly very well aware that Vader could kill everyone in the docking bay if he so desired, and there was not a damn thing any one of them would have been able to do about it. Even Leia could not help but cast a wary gaze at him, half wondering if everything since Tatooine was not part of an elaborate trap. Something told her that was not the case, though, and Mon Mothma seemed to realize that as well, as she continued to stare at him coolly until he came to a stop before her.

“Permission to come aboard, Madam Chancellor?” he requested, the deep base of his vocoder humming through the dead silent docking bay. The barest of smiles came to the woman’s face, and in that moment, Leia realized that there was a lot about the woman before them that she did not really know.

“Granted, Lord Vader,” she responded, and the men near her slowly lowered their weapons, though wary eyes never left the dark lord. “I thank you for coming to us; the Emperor has stepped up his drive to eliminate us; your insight is most welcome.”

Vader nodded at that, and Mon Mothma stepped to the side, motioning for the two of them to follow her deeper inside. Leia followed, feeling numb as she stayed by Vader’s side as she promised, very well aware of the distrustful stares at them. It was not until they were safely secured behind the doors of a conference room that she felt like she could breathe again.

“I’m afraid it will take some effort to make proper use of your assistance, Lord Vader,” Mon Mothma began as soon as the door was closed. “However, I do retain some knowledge of a Force user’s way of life; I will do what I can to simplify this as much as possible.”

She turned to them then, and Leia felt like she may as well have not been in the room.

“I know this is not a choice made lightly,” she continued. “I must ask: what made you take it?”

Vader folded his arms over his chest, remaining standing as Mon Mothma sat. Leia hesitated a moment, before sitting herself and glancing up at him, not sure if he  _ could  _ sit down or not.

“The public execution of my son was a ruse,” he announced. “Luke Skywalker still lives, and I’ve no doubt he is in the Emperor’s custody.”

Leia kept her eyes on Mon Mothma as she took in that information, watched as her eyes widened slightly, unable to keep back her reaction to finding out the star of the Alliance was related to Vader and all that entailed. Normally it was hard to get a grasp of what the former senator was thinking, but right now it was all laid out on her face, and she could practically see where her mind was going as she finally fell back against the chair.

“I see…” she said softly, folding his hands over each other, resting them on the table. Her gaze flicked briefly over to Leia, before turning her attention back to Vader. “It has been weeks since we lost contact with the Coruscant unit; almost a full month. What are the chances of Skywalker remaining uncorrupted?”

Leia found her gaze going up to Vader again, and it seemed like he would stop breathing if he could. An unsettling feeling of dread wormed its way into her gut, and she watched as he finally pulled himself together enough to answer.

“Considering how little training he’s had, very slim,” Vader answered reluctantly, and Leia’s eyes flicked down to see he was clenching his hands into tight fists. For a moment, she wanted to say something, to assure him that Luke was stronger than he was giving him credit for, but the words felt hollow and she could not even get them past her throat.

“I  _ will not  _ give up on my son,” he finally hissed out. “I will tear him out of the Emperor’s grasp if need be.”

Mon Mothma looked up at him, and for a moment Leia thought for certain that she could see past the lenses of his helmet.

“Of course,” she replied readily, before a faint smile came to her face. “I suppose you have one of your old plans ready?”

Leia sat up a little straighter in her seat at that, looking between the two of them in confusion. Did… did Mon Mothma know…? The question burned in her, strong enough that she wanted to say it, but she knew the answer well enough without having to ask it.

“As a matter of fact,” Vader began, and Leia could almost hear the  _ smile  _ in his voice, “I believe I do…”

Leia found herself just sitting there, listening to Vader’s plan. It was outrageous, relying on too many what ifs and possibilities that no sane military commander would ever even entertain. But it was Vader; they had all seen him create miracles that none of them could ever hope for. If anyone could make the impossible possible, it was him, just as Luke had with the Death Star. Mon Mothma approved in the end, and when Vader turned to leave, Leia numbly stood to follow, still trying to process the last few hours.

“Leia, a word, if you please,” Mon Mothma said, stopping her in her tracks. Vader glanced down at her, as if uncertain he should not be in her presence while on board, but he nodded after a moment, excusing himself. Leia stared after him long after the door closed, finding it difficult to speak or even look back at the woman behind her.

“You knew,” she finally get out. “You knew who he really was, all this time.”

“I suspected,” Mon Mothma said softly, and Leia finally turned around to see a sad, wistful look on her face. “I saw Anakin Skywalker frequently, during the Clone Wars. He was almost always in the company of…”

She trailed off, and for a moment it seemed like whatever memories were bubbling to the surface were enough to bring her to tears. A hand came up, pressing against her lips as she regained her composure, before she finally looked up to Leia, motioning for her to sit back down.

“Leia, there is something important I need to tell you.”


	3. Vader

“I only got a name: Skywalker.”

Silence hung in the air as  _ that name  _ cut through him like a knife. Vader barely acknowledged Boba Fett shifting uneasily before he dismissed himself; the only thing he could see and hear was  _ her  _ face, her voice, words that had been spoken long ago, echoing in his head.

_ Something wonderful has happened, Ani. _

He knew she had survived Mustafar, he knew he had not killed her. No matter what lie the Emperor had devised, he knew he had felt her still living as he lay, burned and broken, on that operating table. She must have lived long enough to give birth… to the son she knew they would have.

_ You killed my father! _

_ You will need to be more specific; I have killed many fathers. _

He clenched a fist, the glass of the viewport cracking in response. It was a horrible lie in that it was partially true; from a Jedi’s perspective, Anakin Skywalker was dead. Yet even as he stood there, stewing in his rage, he could feel that side of himself stir, despite how much he tried to keep it down where it belonged.

_ He is her son,  _ Anakin’s strong and healthy voice whispered in his mind.  _ He has her face, her determination. _

“Our recklessness,” he murmured in soft agreement.

“Boss…?”

He turned at the softly spoken word, taking in the sight of Doctor Aphra behind him. Part of him wondered how much she heard, and if he should just kill her for it, but that was quickly overridden. No… right now he had an ally outside of the restrictions of the Imperial fleet, one that could easily slip between the lines and then some.

“Skywalker is our new priority,” he stated, and he was not the least surprised by the immediate suspicious look. She was cunning enough to figure out the reason for the sudden shift, but it did not matter; if he had it his way, the whole galaxy would know he had a son before the month was out.

“I have duties to return to,” he continued as he turned, starting for where his ship was docked. “I have an important mission for you.”

~.oOOo.~

“...so in short: your source was correct.”

Vader stood with his back facing Aphra, ignoring it as she shot at the rodents that roved the crystalline caves of one of Anthan’s thirteenth moon. They had finally met up again after parting ways, with him following the irritating will of  _ Grand General  _ Tagge, bringing down pirates alongside a  _ babysitter  _ and the abominations from Cylo that the Emperor was testing him against. It was beneath him, and only served to fuel his anger over the situation.

Aphra’s report… well, it was not  _ calming,  _ knowing that he was right, knowing that Padmé’s body had been defiled after death to make it look like she was still pregnant when she died. Really, he wanted to scream, and tear everything on the planet apart, but even that would not be enough to satisfy the rage that was slowly bubbling inside of him. Her report also dismissed any shade of doubt that may have lingered about the boy’s origin: the child he sent Boba Fett after  _ was  _ his son, and not just someone given the name of Skywalker. He  _ had a child,  _ one that had been raised with the belief that his father no longer lived; he was going to need to do everything he could to correct this.

But where to  _ start? _

Vader turned to leave, intending to board his fighter and be away as quickly as possible, only to stop short. Triple Zero had emerged from Aphra’s ship, his red eyes gleaming as if he were about to deliver  _ fantastic  _ news, and for some reason, a feeling of dread started to well up in Vader’s chest.

_ Something was wrong. _

“Do you intend to hunt this ‘Skywalker’ down now, Master Vader?” he asked, electronic voice displaying some mockery of distress that did not seem to match the gleam in his eyes. “I hope this isn’t  _ Luke  _ Skywalker, the young Rebel that destroyed the Death Star.”

Vader froze at that information, running it over in his head. There was yet more proof that this was their son, as they had planned to name him Luke. The fact that he had been the pilot he was chasing above the Death Star…

“What are you getting at, Trip?” Aphra asked, and he did not need to be looking at her to know she was giving him a wary glance, like she half expected him to explode any second. It did not help that feeling of dread was rising painfully, especially as he imagined the droid would have a cold smile on his face as he answered if he were capable of it.

“Why, Luke Skywalker was very publicly, very  _ brutally  _ executed for his crimes just now.”

~.oOOo.~

Vader was aching in a way that he had never felt before. Laying on the shores of Mustafar had been painful, seeing the video of his wife’s funeral procession had been agonizing, laying on that operating table as life was given back to him had been excruciating.  _ None of that  _ could compare to the pain he was in over losing his son. He had seen the footage by now, of his son, limp and broken as he was dragged in front of a firing squad, as the crowds around Coruscant jeering as the list of his son’s crimes were read aloud. And then… and then it was over; round after round after round, and he was dead long before they stopped firing, but they kept going until there was nothing left.

There was no word for the agony he was in.

He found himself in the location that Boba Fett had reported, and found himself in a building drenched in the  _ stench  _ of a person he thought to leave behind. This was clearly Obi-Wan’s dwelling, from the sensations that lingered in the walls to the humble wares left about. But in addition, he could sense the recent battle, could sense the power Luke had used to fight against the skilled bounty hunter, blinded, but still able to see.

Power, but so, so untrained.

“Obi-Wan, you had twenty years,” he murmured, resting a hand against one of the walls. “What were you doing…?”

He heard a shuffling noise, but he did not bother to move as Aphra stepped into the building, shadowing the door. She was silent, almost respectful, and part of him wondered if she could tell how much he was in pain at the moment. He would have killed someone for seeing him like this, and part of him recognized the fact that he should kill her too, but he stayed his hand.

“Found the target, boss,” she finally said after a moment. “She was in Mos Eisley, like you said.”

She fell silent again, shifting slightly on her feet.

“Hey, uh…” she began. “There’s a thing on Alderaan about cutting hair, y’know? Braids mean all kinds of things, and not being able to put your hair in braids is a helluva way to show how much you’re grieving.”

Silence fell again, aside from the sound of her shifting on her feet. 

“I think she’s taking this as hard as you—”

He finally whirled around then, and she scrambled out of the way as he stormed out of the building, leaving the terrible sensations it brought behind him. He did not stop until he was standing on the ridge as far from the house as he could, gazing out into the desert. A stream of sand and dust was trailing along the dunes; a landspeeder was going out to one of the farms, and he suspected he knew exactly who was in that speeder and where they were going.

With a signal to Aphra, they were aboard the  _ Ark Angel  _ and heading out over the desert, keeping low enough to avoid any orbital scanners. He did not owe the Princess and whatever scum she decided to associate with anything, but the least he could do is prevent anyone that might be watching from catching her. Even if they did, he was prepared to deal with that — demoted from the Imperial fleet or not, he was still Lord Vader, right hand to the Emperor.

What he was not prepared for was seeing the Lars homestead once again.

Aphra landed beside the landspeeder with all the precision of a scoundrel that had been doing this for a long, long time. The princess was staring at him as he headed down the boarding ramp, the smuggler she was known to associate with standing protectively in front of her, blaster raised as if that would do anything. He barely paid them any attention, though the thought to crush the offending weapon with the Force as he passed by did cross his mind.

Instead of indulging himself, he headed right for the gravestones that the princess was standing near, noticing there were two more than there should have been. Vader opened himself to the Force, feeling the presence of his son here, strong and powerful and full of so many different emotions that it brought the pain up even more fresh than before. His son grew up here, he lived here, was loved here… and lost everything here. He glanced over at the new gravestones, noting they were for Owen and Beru, two people that never really needed to be part of any conflict outside their simple little lives, just like…

He dragged his gaze over to the oldest gravestone there, realizing his hand had reached out, tracing out a name that had long since faded in the blowing sands. He curled his fingers away from the stone, like they had been burned, before he finally stood, glancing at the homestead and the painful memories that clung there, and then turning back to the princess and her…  _ companion. _

“You will find no solace for the boy here,” he finally spoke. “The sands of this planet give nothing but pain.”

“Sounds like something else I know,” the smuggler snapped, angling himself so that he could stand between him and the princess, who had yet to move. It was laughable, really, but Vader did not have the energy in him to swat him to the side like he would have normally. He was nothing, but the princess… his son had risked his life to get her off the Death Star. He did not know why he felt the need to reach out to her, but if anyone out there knew his son best…

“What do you care about the kid, anyway?”

Vader fell quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting over to the princess again. He sensed… something; he was not sure what, but it was coming from her.

“I did not realize his importance,” he finally replied, flinching at how much pain seeped in his voice. The smuggler lowered his gun at the sound of it, and the princess pushed her way out from behind him, staring at Vader curiously.

“Who is Luke to you?” she asked, and Vader turned away, remembering how much he wanted the whole galaxy to know that he had a son. What was even the point now?

“He is my son.”

~.oOOo.~

Something was wrong.

Aphra and the smuggler were bickering, complaining about who had the greater credits owed, or something to that effect. Vader had long stopped paying attention to the two of them. Instead, his focus was on the princess, watching her as she seemed to be gazing off into space. The Force seemed to be pulsing around her, like it was trying to get around a block that she had unconsciously put up around herself. That made no sense; he knew for a fact that she was not Force sensitive…

Right?

Her presence suddenly felt like it was drifting, like something was pulling her away. He started forward, sending the smuggler scrambling out of his way, and she turned toward him just before her eyes rolled back into her head. Vader snapped his hands out, catching the princess by the wrists just as her knees started to buckle. The smuggler was shouting, Aphra was yelling at him, but he ignored them both, trying to see what was pulling her away that he could not sense…

“Luke!” the princess suddenly shouted, jerking back into awareness. She stared at him, wide eyed, like she could not understand why he was holding onto her. The Force still  _ hummed  _ around her, burning brilliantly, more than it ever had before, and it was clearer than ever what she was.

“You are Force sensitive.”

A strange look came to the princess’ face, before she finally found it in herself to shove away from him. He let her go easily enough, his arms fall to his sides.

“I am not,” she replied stubbornly, before a distant look came to her face. “But I… I heard Luke.”

“You what?” the smuggler asked, his disbelief obvious.

“I heard Luke,” she repeated, as if that were enough to make whatever she experienced real. “I heard his voice. He said not to follow him; that he needed to do something on his own.”

Vader fell silent, save for his breathing, and he doubted he would have been able to do that if it were not regulated by his ventilator. His son… was alive…? He was alive, and he could not sense him, which meant…

...which meant the Emperor had him.

An unsettling, cold feeling washed over him, remembering why he was free to move about the galaxy at the moment to begin with. The Emperor was looking for a  _ replacement  _ for him, pulled in a crazy mad scientist that built up abominations, but he knew his master would change plans without thinking twice about it if something better came around. His son was definitely something better, better than him, better than the abominations. His son was a beacon of power, and… practically raw and untrained.

“Could look at the execution footage again,” Aphra was suggesting. “Maybe find evidence it was altered?”

Vader finally pulled his gaze away from the princess, turning to Aphra. The woman straightened at that, like she was ready to take orders, better than any officer he had dealt with. Perhaps that was why he managed to still his hand against her: part of him knew she could listen when she wanted to.

“Go,” he ordered. “Inform me if there is anything that would make your analysis easier.”

Aphra snapped off a mock salute, giving the princess a worried look, before sliding over to her computer station. Triple Zero tottered up to the smuggler, a gleam in his red eyes.

“Now then, is there anything we can do to make you all  _ comfortable?” _

~.oOOo.~

The longer he had to wait, the more Vader was beginning to wonder if outright Rebellion was preferable to the slinking in the shadows he had been forced to do since Cymoon.

As much as he wanted to throw caution to the wind and tear Imperial Center apart for his son, he knew he could not. Doing so would put the entirety of the Empire against him, not to mention he did not have the power to confront the Emperor and protect his son at the same time; not alone, and certainly not with the company he was currently keeping. Yet still, he could not bring himself to return to the fleet; it was not his command at the moment, and the thought of dealing with Grand General Tagge made his stomach (at least, what was left of it) turn on itself. Even where he was at the moment, in the cockpit of the heap of bolts and junk plating the smuggler called a ship, was preferable to dealing with  _ that. _

Even if he did want to rip the glare off Solo’s face and cram it down his throat.

“I don’t get something,” the smuggler finally spoke up.

“Forgive my lack of surprise,” Vader replied blandly before he could stop himself. Solo shot him an annoyed look, before he continued:

“How can you claim to be Luke’s dad, yet keep using a different name?”

The respirator kept his breathing steady and even, otherwise he would have let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’ve not the time nor the inclination to explain to you the philosophies of the Sith when it comes to names.”

He did not turn, but he could still see Solo rolling his eyes.

“Then give me the short version,” he stated.

Vader finally turned then, glaring at him through his mask. To his annoyance, the smuggler did not even flinch, and after a long, irritating moment, he finally relented.

“To be named a Sith is to discard what you once were,” he answered. “My naming was… quick, without ceremony, but I had been groomed for it long before it happened.”

Solo raised an eyebrow, and he did not need the Force to know the infuriating man did not understand.

“So, if you discarded your old identity, why are you claiming the kid of your old identity?”

Once again, Vader shot the smuggler a glare that went unseen and ignored.

“He is  _ my  _ son.”

“No, his last name is  _ Skywalker,  _ remember?” Solo shot back, pointing a finger in his mask. “You can’t claim Skywalker’s kid while pretending you’re still Mr. Big Bad Sith Lord. And considering you’ve been hanging around  _ my  _ ship like a damn lost puppy, I  _ seriously  _ don’t think the title still applies.”

Vader stood from his seat then, in no mood to suffer the man’s presence any longer. He got as far as the door, before the man spoke up again.

“Hey, the hypothetical terrible stuff the Emperor could be doing to the kid if he’s still alive; is that what you had planned for him too?”

Vader paused; admittedly, he had not had the chance to think about it, but… he remembered all the subtle ways the Emperor had broken him over the years, had twisted his way of thinking that was already painfully removed from the Jedi he was supposed to be, and…

...and considering his son was barely trained, already thought of him as the man that killed his father…

He could not; there was no way he could do such a thing to his own son.

“No,” he answered simply, leaving the cockpit and ignoring the smug look that came to Solo’s face.

He followed the hallway path, pausing only by the communication console to see if Aphra had reported in yet, before continuing further into the ship. It took him a moment to pick up faint flickers of the Force trying to surge up, and he frowned, curiously following it to its source, and not at all surprised to see the princess. She was frowning intensely at a comlink set at the opposite edge of the table she was seated at, reaching a hand out, no doubt trying to mimic what Luke may have done before in her company. She almost had the right idea, but lacked the instruction to make the Force answer her call.

“The Force does not work like that,” he rumbled in amusement, enjoying the sight of her looking like she near jumped out of her skin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, folding her arms over her chest and trying to look at everything but him.

He would have let out an amused noise if he could, debating with himself for a moment, before approaching her. She jerked away from him defensively, but he merely reached out, calmly plucking the comlink from the table, holding it far from her in his open palm.

“Close your eyes, princess,” he instructed, though he only received a glare in response. When he refused to budge, she finally sighed, closing her eyes. “Let go of your conscious self, what you believe to be your reality, and only focus on the shape and feel of the comlink.”

The princess let out a faint noise of annoyance, but even as she did so, Vader could feel the Force humming softly, gathering tightly around her.

“Now, take that image, and imagine it moving,” he continued, “let your mind remember the feel of it in your hand, and make it a reality.”

For a moment, nothing happened, and then the comlink wobbled every so slightly in his hand. In the next moment, it shot toward the princess, who instinctively raised a hand, grabbing onto it. Her eyes immediately flew open, staring at the comlink in wonder.

“As I said, you are Force sensitive.”

All told, he was not shocked; she had been able to resist a mind probe directed by him, after all. Very few individuals could claim that and none that could still lived. She seemed to be making that connection as well, and her gaze immediately shot to him, all fire and determination. She would have made a poor Jedi back in the days of the council, he realized with a touch of morbid amusement. They probably would have reacted to her the same way they had to him, and she would not have had the benefit of being “the Chosen One”.

For a moment, he entertained the thought of being blessed with the daughter that he thought he sensed, wondering if she would have been like the princess. He shook it off quickly, knowing better than to entertain things that could never be reality.

“And what do you plan to do with this information, Vader?” the princess demanded hotly, breaking him out of his thoughts. Vader folded his arms over his chest, looking down at her.

“...keep you as far away from the Emperor as possible,” he finally started, drawing a curious look from her. “He will consider you either a threat to his power or something he can use, neither of which will be beneficial for us.”

“Especially if he has Luke…” Leia added, a distant look on her face, as if she could see how poorly things would go if the Emperor did get his hands on her. Perhaps she could; her connection to the Force seemed instinctual, a lot like…

A beep from the communication console cut the thought off before he could lose himself in the past, and he immediately crossed the distance to it, flipping it on.

“You found something?” he asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question. Aphra’s flippant voice answered him immediately.

“Boss, I went the extra mile for you, I’ll have you know. Footage of the execution wasn’t doctored in the slightest, buuuuuuuuuut… I did comparison facial scans of the kid’s wanted posters and the clear shots of him in the video, and the match was absolutely perfect.”

Vader managed to get an irritated noise through his vocoder as Leia let out a stricken noise.

_ “How  _ is this helpful?”

It was fairly easy to imagine Aphra rolling her eyes as she answered. “Boss, you  _ never _ get a perfect match from one holo to another. There’s always differences in the face, whether it’s made by light or expression, blah-di-blah, you get the idea. And since we know the footage wasn’t doctored, that means—”

“The person killed was…” Vader finished for her, a strange feeling rising in his chest. It took him a moment to realize that it was hope; hope that his son was still alive. It had been so long since he had felt such a thing, he forgot how it could warm the very soul.

“Okay, that’s it,” Solo said, suddenly appearing at his elbow. “Doc, we’re sending your Dark Lord over. We need to head off.”

Vader paused, his gaze finding the princess before he even realized he was seeking her out. His mind returned to his previous thought, of how outright Rebellion was preferable to going back to the fleet…

“No, I will accompany you.”

Solo stopped so fast, he practically left skid marks on the floor.

“Sorry, what?”

Leia stood, clutching to the comlink as she gave him a wary look.

“You’re  _ defecting?”  _ she asked, her tone making it clear how insane she thought that was. Who would even believe that Darth Vader, right hand man of the Emperor, would ever outwardly rebel?

A tight smirk came to his face.

“There are certain things worth Rebelling for, princess.”

~.oOOo.~

Vader was about as well received in the Alliance as he expected he would be, which was to say, not at all. Even though the princess had warned the base  _ well  _ before they arrived that he was defecting, the Rebels acted as if it were a trap, with every possible blaster trained on him as he strode off the garbage heap the smuggler called a ship. The princess, to her credit, was sticking by her statements made before their arrival and walking by his side, despite how much Solo had attempted to stop her.

Mon Mothma herself was at the end of a long line of armed fighters. She held herself tall, clearly very well aware that Vader could kill everyone in the docking bay if he so desired, and there was not a damn thing any one of them could do about it. Fortunately he had no intention of doing so, and Mon Mothma seemed to realize as much, as she relaxed once he stopped, folding her hands peaceably before her, Vader himself taking a similarly relaxed state, hooking his thumbs into his belt.

“Permission to come aboard, Madam Chancellor?” he requested, the deep base of his vocoder humming through the dead silent docking bay. The barest of smiles came to the woman’s face, and in that moment, he realized she  _ knew,  _ and he knew it was not because the princess had told her.

“Granted, Lord Vader,” she responded, and the men near her slowly lowered their weapons, though many wary eyes never left. “I thank you for coming to us; the Emperor has stepped up his drive to eliminate us; your insight is most welcome.”

Vader nodded, following as Mon Mothma turned, starting deeper inside. Leia stayed by his side, though it did not stop the distrustful stares that followed him throughout the base, until they were secured behind the doors of a conference room.

“I’m afraid it will take some effort to make proper use of your assistance, Lord Vader,” Mon Mothma began as soon as the door was closed. “However, I do retain some knowledge of a Force user’s way of life; I will do what I can to simplify this as much as possible.”

She turned toward him then, sympathy in her eyes apparent.

“I know this is not a choice made lightly,” she continued. “I must ask: what made you take it?”

Vader folded his arms over his chest, remaining standing as the two women say.

“The public execution of my son was a ruse,” he announced. “Luke Skywalker still lives, and I’ve no doubt he is in the Emperor’s custody.”

Mon Mothma paled at that, proving she absolutely understood the implications of that statement. She took a moment to compose herself, before continuing.

“I see…” she said softly, folding his hands over each other, resting them on the table. Her gaze flicked briefly over to the princess, before turning her attention back to Vader. “It has been weeks since we lost contact with the Coruscant unit; almost a full month. What are the chances of Skywalker remaining uncorrupted?”

Had he control of his own breath, it very well may have stopped at that. Even the princess did not seem to realize how much time had passed, given the sudden look she gave him.

“Considering how little training he’s had, very slim,” Vader answered reluctantly.

A grim air settled over the room, and Vader found himself clenching his fists. He knew what would happen now; if this were still the era of the Republic, he would be written off for dead, abandoned and…

He could not even stand to finish the thought.

“I  _ will not _ give up on my son,” he finally hissed out. “I will tear him out of the Emperor’s grasp if need be.”

Mon Mothma looked up at him, meeting his gaze through the mask.

“Of course,” she replied readily, before a faint smile came to her face. “I suppose you have one of your old plans ready?”

Vader felt a tight smile come to her face as the princess glanced between them, the question of just how well they knew each other on her lips, though she could not make herself ask.

“As a matter of fact, I believe I do…”

~.oOOo.~

“This is a  _ stupid  _ plan.”

Vader resolutely ignored the smugglers annoying whining, remaining where he was, his arms folded over his chest, leaning up against one of the walls of the container they were crammed into. He had tried to slip into meditation, but with the princess, the smuggler, Aphra, her droids, and all the other Rebel troops that were crammed in the same space, it was impossible to focus. So instead, he concentrated on his own breathing, allowing the rhythmic noise to lull him into something like it.

It still was not enough for him to miss the princess patting the smuggler’s arm, and trying not to think about how it made what skin he had left crawl. Who the princess chose to fraternize with was her own business; he had no right being unsettled by it.

“Your whining is worse than his breathing, you know,” Aphra piped up from where she was crouched on the ground, absently tracing patterns in some dirt that got into the container before they were loaded on the ship. Despite the smuggler’s grumbling, it was a simple plan: conceal a bunch of troops as a cargo shipment, and sneak them into Coruscant. They would slip right under the Home Fleet, and directly onto the planet, in areas they could do the most damage with the few numbers they had.

“This is the last thing anyone would expect us to do,” Leia reminded the smuggler softly. “It’s too bold for us; we have the advantage.”

“Advantage or not,” Vader finally spoke, giving up the illusion that he was ignoring them, and making the smuggler just about jump through the roof of the container, “this is the opposite of keeping you away from the Emperor, princess.”

“And as I said before, I can’t just sit by knowing that Luke’s in trouble,” she replied, before she let out a faint breath. “It’s my fault he was on that mission. I have to help him.”

Vader did not approve, but… he understood, and he found a small part of him cared about the fact that she cared so much for his son that she would risk so much for him. Once again, he found himself thinking, if Padmé had a daughter instead…

The thought was immediately dashed as they all felt the ship land, and the Rebels around him shifted, crouching low to the ground to keep from falling over as everything around them moved. Soon, they could all feel the box being lifted, moved, and set somewhere outside, where they could hear troops around them, walking and talking among themselves as they inspected the shipment.

“Hey, do you hear something funny?” they heard from outside. 

“Hear what?”

“I dunno; sounds like breathing?” The first replied, sounding confused.

Vader rose immediately, lightsaber coming to life in his hand, before he jammed it through the wall of the container. The scream of pain that followed made it clear he hit his mark, and the princess sprang to her feet, slamming her hands on the container release. The panels fell away before the other trooper outside could escape, crushing him instantly. Blaster fire erupted almost immediately, raining down on their group, but Vader’s lightsaber became a whirl of motion, protecting them as they ran for cover. 

“Beetee, get on jamming their signals!” Aphra shouted. The droid let out a rude noise, opening up several panels on his cylindrical form, unleashing a rocket launcher, flamethrower, and a rapid fire blaster, letting loose volley after volley until the blaster fire directed at them stopped. 

The princess looked like she was struggling not to be sick, while Aphra let out an exasperated noise. 

“Or… do that,” she muttered. “That works too.”

The smuggler stared at the droid as it closed up its weaponry, beeping smugly.

“Where did you even get that thing?” he asked.

Before Aphra could answer, the blaster fire started up again; a new wave of troops had made their way to the area, with the others barely ducking out of the way to avoid the attack and even Vader just barely getting his lightsaber up in time. Just as suddenly as it started, however, it was brought to a sudden end, as one after another the new troops dropped, shot from behind. For a moment, he thought it might have been one of the other Rebel squads that had also snuck onto the planet as they had, only to pause when more stormtroopers appeared. The smuggler looked like he was going to try and fire as the captain of the squad got closer, but thankfully he paused, giving Vader a sideways glance as the man stood at attention before him.

“Sir! The Five-oh-first is stationed on the planet as you ordered,” the captain announced, and Vader felt more than a few eyes turn toward him. His own gaze found the princess’s, and she had a small frown on her face, as if she were trying to determine if he was about to betray them or not.

Vader shook his head slightly, noticing she eased back slightly as he turned his attention back to the captain.

“And who conveyed these orders?” he asked, and the man seemed to pause at that, his confusion clear even though the man’s face was concealed by his helmet.

“Your… servant, sir?” he replied, sounding more like he was not so sure of that himself, and Vader was starting to suspect a trap himself, but the man shook himself out of it before continuing, “He pulled us from our assignments and had us stationed here. The fleet should be along shortly as well.”

The 501st on planet, and the fleet…? Vader turned slightly, catching the princess’s attention again and nodding. At her signal, the other cargo containers that had been shipped with theirs all opened, revealing other platoons of Rebellion fighters. They hesitated at the sight of the stormtroopers still standing peaceably among them, but it only lasted a moment before packs were shouldered and equipment was pulled out, some of the 501st members moving to also assist.

“Well this is weird…” the smuggler muttered, and Vader caught sight of Aphra shrugging slightly, before she started to pull out some of the weaponry they brought, reloading BT-1.

Vader turned to observe the Rebels and troops working together, readying themselves with an efficiency he clearly did not expect. The princess came up to his side once she had her own pack of explosives, and he realized that as the two groups finished, they were  _ all  _ turning toward him, not even the Rebels questioning his leadership role in all of this. A strange feeling came to him, one he knew he had felt before, but he did not dare name it, not right now.

“Rebellion troops, you have your assignments,” he began. “Five-oh-first, prioritize protecting citizens and keeping the local police out of the way. The rendezvous is at the palace once it has been destroyed, should all go according to plan.”

He paused, taking in the fact that he had the attention of every single one of them, and a breath cycle passed before he spoke again.

“May the Force be with you.”

Vader could feel an unsettling tremor as he started toward the palace with the princess, the smuggler, and Aphra. It only increased the closer they came to it, and part of him suspected it was purely from his former master’s rage. After all, their invading force was quickly spreading through this area of the city planet, the 501st keeping the home troops and police busy as the Rebels took over or outright destroyed defensive structures and essential services. It gave their small group a clear path toward the towering structure, and very little tried to stop them that could not be dispatched by a blaster shot or a lightsaber.

But the Force… the Force was starting to scream with warning.

The reason why met them at the entrance. Standing there, where the guards would normally stand, was a figure dressed in dark robes, meant to blend into the shadows of the colossal doorway. A white, featureless mask covered his face, but even without any means of identifying the person, Vader knew who it was.

“Luke…” the princess uttered beside him, horror creeping into her voice. Vader stepped forward, keeping himself between the two of them, his lightsaber in hand but not activated.

“Princess, go,” he ordered, and he saw Solo grab her arm, ushering her away with Aphra bringing up the rear, her and her droids covering the group as they started toward the back way into the palace.

Leaving Vader and his son alone.

He was expecting a fight, and yet he realized very quickly that outright attacking the boy — knowing who he was, knowing that he had very likely been through untold horrors by now, that Palpatine had to have corrupted him beyond recognition — was something he could not bring himself to do.

For the moment, it seemed he did not have to; once the princess and her band was out of sight, Luke turned on his heel, walking into the palace, the doors opening wide to admit him. He paused once, glancing back in a clear invitation to follow, before continuing on deeper inside. Vader would have let out an irritated hiss of breath if he could, knowing he was heading straight into a trap, yet unable to keep himself from following after him.

Vader was not entirely surprised to see his son — or at least the hollow shell that was left of him — was leading him to the Emperor’s throne, and the path there was unnervingly silent, filled with a tension that seemed to hang heavy in the air. Vader could only think of the horrors that had been forced on Luke, the pain and the fear he had to endure. Or maybe it had not been that way; maybe Palpatine had lured him as he had done with him, perpetuating the lie that Vader had killed the boy’s father to make it easier to tempt him. He did not know, but just the thoughts alone were enough to have his rage reach its peak by the time the doors to the throne room opened.

He stopped at the bottom of the dais, but Luke continued, not coming to a halt until he was before the Emperor, bowing submissively. The sight only made Vader’s blood boil, the image of himself wrapping his fingers around the old man’s fragile neck filling his head. Palpatine just  _ smiled,  _ reaching out to pet his son’s head, deliberately trying to bait him.

It was working.

“I’m surprised at you, my old friend,” Palpatine sneered, continuing to stroke Luke’s head like he was a  _ pet.  _ “I did not imagine you still capable of such initiative. Rallying the Rebellion to directly assault Imperial Center, all because you realized you were being replaced?”

“You  _ know  _ the real reason I am here,  _ Sidious,”  _ he hissed in return, finally igniting his lightsaber. The Emperor smiled banally, finally taking his hand off of Luke’s head, before reaching into his robes. He pulled out a lightsaber —  _ his  _ lightsaber, the one Luke had been wielding at Cymoon — and offering it to the boy.

“Come, my young apprentice,” he encouraged him softly. “It is time for the final test you’ve longed for.”

Luke lifted his head, and he reached up to accept the weapon before he rose to his feet.

“As you wish, my master,” he finally spoke, and Vader felt a painful ache in his chest at those words. He had spoken them himself more times than he cared to remember, but hearing his son say them felt so  _ wrong. _

Luke ignited the lightsaber, bathing the dais in its blue light, before he took a running leap off of it. Vader raised his own, the two weapons clashing loudly. The boy pushed off quickly, seemingly not at all impeded by the mask concealing his face, and he barely gave himself time to land before he was on Vader, striking out in such a flurry of blows that he was hard pressed to block them all. He imagined it was much like what fighting himself had been like back in the day: a mountain of fierce, powerful strikes that never seemed to stop. Only what Luke lacked in height and strength, he made up for it in pure speed, and Vader had to push away, put distance between them, before he lost a limb.

“The Emperor has lied to you, boy,” he said, trying to see if there was  _ anything  _ left of his son in there. “He will give you nothing he’s promised you.”

Luke did not answer, instead pressing his advantage, forcing Vader to block low as he continued to push him back. An ache was starting to set deep in his bones, what little of them were left, already exhausted from trying to keep up with the boy. This was a far cry from the inexperienced youth on Cymoon, and Vader might have been proud of the vast improvement over such a short time under any other circumstances.

“Listen to me, child!” he hissed, narrowly blocking a blow aimed for his head, only to have to retreat as Luke slammed an attack toward his side.

“I know very well what my master wishes of me,” he finally spoke, his voice a disturbing monotone, lacking emotion. “That is why I have no name. When I destroy you, I will be his.”

Vader felt his eyes widen, a cold dread settling over him. He was well aware of the Emperor’s ability to manipulate the Force within another, to bend the midichlorians that generated it to his will. There was a combination of science and mysticism there that he did not understand, but the idea that he would use this power to just  _ take Luke… _

Anger surged from deep within him, and suddenly he was on the attack, catching the boy off guard as he lashed out. Blow after blow rained down on the boy, forcing him to give ground, putting him on the defensive. He may have been strong under Palpatine’s deceitful instruction, but he could not match Vader’s sheer strength like this. It was a moment before he knocked the lightsaber from the boy’s hand, forcing him to stumble back against the dais steps as he raised his blade— 

“Father, stop!”

Vader froze. That was not Luke’s voice that had called out, breaking through his blind rage. Yet even as he turned toward the direction of the new voice, he knew who would be there. It made sense, of course, for how easy had it been to imagine her as his daughter, once her hidden Force talents had started to manifest? She was standing there by the entrance to the room, surrounded by the bodies of dead, red-robed guards that had been guarding the door, and the sight of the princess was a welcome one, even if he knew Palpatine had to be looking at her with interest.

His  _ daughter. _

He was about to yell at Leia to leave when white hot  _ agony  _ suddenly took over his body. Vader fell to his knees, the systems of his suite flashing with error messages and forced reboot notifications as his son stood, lightning still crackling between his fingertips.

Palpatine cackled from above them, applauding the display in utter, dark  _ glee. _

“Good,” he hissed. “You are  _ powerful,  _ my young apprentice.”

He paused, his gaze flicking to Leia, and Vader could see her stand her ground through the flashing messages in his helmet’s display, her fists balled tightly at her sides. Even if he did not have the Force to say so, Vader would have seen the truth in her being his daughter, just from the vehement glare she was shooting back at the Emperor alone.

“Now, child, remove your mask,” he continued, returning his focus back to Luke. “Let the traitor see my new face before he dies.”

Luke nodded absently, crouching down so he was face to face with Vader. A tense moment passed, filled only with the sound of his wheezing breath as his systems continued through their reboot cycle. The boy finally reached up, removing his mask...


	4. Luke

Every bone in Luke’s body was aching by the time they unhooked him from the torture rack, yet the pain was nothing compared to what was going on in his mind. The Emperor’s words blazed through him like wildfire, unsure what to make of any of it. It was ridiculous to think that his father had supported Palpatine, even after he knew he was a Sith Lord. Yet it  _ felt  _ true, to the point his heart was beginning to ache. Somehow, he managed to pull himself to the bench in his cell, collapsing onto it and curling up on himself.

“Ben… why didn’t you tell me?”

He was not expecting an answer — he was in a solitary cell, after all. Yet he could feel the Force hum around him, a familiar presence twitching to life in the back of his mind.

_ I’m sorry, Luke. _

It was not the first time he heard Ben’s voice. He had heard it once over the Death Star, and again at that disastrous mission on Cymoon. In this place, he  _ should  _ have suspected a trap, but… it felt right. The only problem with this was that he was certain he was being recorded, so he curled up in a tighter ball, keeping his voice muffled.

“What really happened to my father, Ben?” he asked softly.  _ “Please,  _ I need to know.”

Silence answered him, as if Ben were struggling to find the right words.

_ Anakin and the chancellor were good friends,  _ he finally admitted softly.  _ Where I struggled to understand an apprentice that had started his training so late, Palpatine was kind and thoughtful. I thought nothing of it at the time, and war kept me from seeing the ugly reality of the situation until it was far too late. _

Luke closed his eyes, feeling white hot tears trailing down his cheeks. He could see the truth behind Ben’s words; he knew his father had been a slave, and had seen enough slaves himself, broken by their cruel masters, to know what conditioning sounded like.

“So the Jedi killed him,” he said softly, feeling his chest ache. Silence answered him again, before one regretful word echoed in his head.

_ No. _

Luke started at that, lifting his head.

_ The good man that was your father died that night when he raised his weapon to the Jedi,  _ Ben continued.  _ Something else rose in his place. _

Luke frowned, trying to understand what that meant, when it suddenly, sharply clicked in his head. It took  _ everything  _ for him to stay curled up, to keep his voice down, even as the Force hummed in truth.

“Vader…” he breathed, before his expression twisted up in annoyance. “Why didn’t you  _ tell  _ me? Did you think I would go running to him?”

_ I could not take the chance, Luke. You are the only one capable of stopping Vader and his Emperor. _

“You could have  _ trusted me  _ too, you know,” he hissed, clutching at his legs. There was little chance of him being able to do much of anything right now though, yet even as he thought as much, a slow idea wormed its way into his head. He let out a breath, knowing it would be risky, but if he had any hope of surviving this…

“I’m going to accept the Emperor’s offer.”

_ Luke— _

“It’s the only way I’m getting out of here,” he cut Ben off. “If I refuse him, he’s either going to kill me or force me to obey him. If I go to him willingly, I still have a chance of skating around him on my own terms.”

Silence answered him, and Luke let out a faint huff. He could understand the reluctance; this was a  _ dumb  _ plan, and the slightest screw up could lead to either death, or a fate much, much worse. But he  _ had  _ to do something, and if escape was not an option, then working the situation to his advantage was. That was what Han would say, anyway.

Besides, maybe he could even save his father in the process.

“Ben,  _ trust me.  _ Please.”

A soft sigh echoed in his head.

_ I do not like this,  _ his voice stated.  _ But I see little choice in the matter. _

Luke let out a triumphant noise.

_ But you will need to strongly sell your loyalty, Luke,  _ Ben continued, his voice full of regret.

And after spending the next half hour learning how to destroy the presence of a Force spirit, Luke definitely felt emotionally crushed enough to pull the whole thing off. The pained sobs he was letting out were  _ very  _ real, knowing that Ben was right in having him do this, but it did not make it any easier. If Ben’s spirit had been left alone, still able to reach him, Palpatine would have sensed it. It would have given everything away, and he could not afford to have that happen.

He turned a glare up to where he was certain the camera was, knowing it was what the Emperor would want to see. He could almost see the decrepit old corpse, watching with a twisted look of glee on his face.

He could not wait to wipe it off, but he had to be patient and play his part. It was the only way he was going to survive.

_ Master… _

He let the thought fill his mind and projected it outward, trying not to feel sick. He could  _ do  _ this; he had to do this.

~.oOOo.~

Luke hated everything about this.

The Emperor was a twisted, sick individual of a level he had never imagined. Luke had learned very quickly how to keep his emotions on lock, to turn himself into an expressionless little servant, because if he had let himself go unchecked, Palpatine would have torn his mind completely apart. As it was, it was still difficult to keep a straight face at his double’s execution, the only consolation from it being the man had been imprisoned for awhile before this, broken and waiting for death before he had been forced to take on his face. Still, being shot over a million and a half times with low powered blasters to ensure that there was  _ something  _ to shoot at until the very last shot had been beyond cruel.

He had a part to play, that being absorbing everything the Emperor had to teach him, or at least giving the appearance that he was. The teachings were as warped as he was, and there were many times he simply could not find any  _ good  _ alternative for what he had to say. Still, he held onto the information, filed it away with everything else, and maybe later he could figure out what he could do with it.

At the very least, finding himself capable of better reaching out and understanding the Force was some benefit to all of this, even if what he heard in it was disturbing.

It seemed everything was going well, that he was successfully duping the Emperor into thinking he was corrupting him, but… part of him  _ felt  _ like he was not actually succeeding like he thought he was, and the Emperor seemed happy proved that. The day started like any other had so far, with Luke reporting to the wordless call through the Force, kneeling before the Emperor and waiting for that day’s lesson to start. Something felt  _ wrong,  _ though, and he almost ignored one of the painfully learned lessons — to not look on Palpatine unless permitted — to glance up at him.

“Do you know what this building used to be, my young apprentice?”

Luke lifted his head, only so he could be heard clearly, his eyes remaining cast downward as he fought the urge to panic at the strange question.

“It was the Jedi Temple, master,” he answered promptly.

“And before it was the temple?”

He faltered at that, a frown coming to his face. Was he supposed to know the answer to this? It had been the Imperial Palace in his lifetime, and he knew from the Rebellion that it used to be the Jedi Temple. Anything more than that, he had never heard.

“I do not know, master,” he replied, deciding the safest answer was just being honest. It seemed to please the Emperor, as he merely leaned back on his throne, taking on the air he always did when he began his lessons.

“In times long forgotten, this was a Sith shrine, my young apprentice,” he explained. “When the Jedi first invaded this planet, they slaughtered the Sith that worshipped here, and built their temple over their remains.”

The Emperor leaned forward in his seat, reaching out to press two fingers under Luke’s chin, forcing his head up a little more. He took that as permission to look up at him, and he could not help but feel an intense stab of curiosity. Jedi slaughtering others unprovoked seemed unlikely, but… he had been wrong about a Jedi’s motivations before.

“I want you to reach out to that shrine,” the Emperor ordered softly. “Touch the ancient power that rests here, and let it become a part of you.”

An uneasy feeling churned in Luke’s gut. He had sensed it already, a pit of darkness lurking somewhere in the depths of the planet, though he had not known what it was. Part of him suspected that it was just something the Emperor had done, but that was obviously not the case. The fact he was being requested to actually  _ poke  _ it bothered him. Did the Emperor suspect something? Had he screwed up?

Was he going to come back from this as himself?

He felt the Emperor’s hand on his cheek, reassuring him, and he quashed the urge to be sick at the touch. He forced a smile on his face instead, closing his eyes and reaching down, as far down as he could stretch his senses and further, until he felt something  _ stir  _ in the Force. It took him a moment to realize something was reaching back for him, something  _ dark,  _ but not malicious, not like the Emperor. He grasped onto it without giving himself the chance to second guess his choice, and he felt a sharp  _ tug  _ as his sense of self was separated from his physical body.

Luke felt himself scream, but he could not hear anything coming out of his mouth. He found himself surrounded by the dark, vague shapes shifting around him as he burned, bright and silent in the middle of it all.

_ Bright!  _ a voice hissed in his head.  _ Too bright! _

Hissed sounds of agreement followed, and Luke struggled against the urge to panic. He had made a mistake; he could feel the eyes in the darkness staring down at him, and he swore that the only reason he could not see the beings around him was because they were too far beyond what his mind could comprehend.

_ We know what you are, not-Jedai. We watch you try to deceive him. _

An unsettled feeling struck Luke, worried that he was going to be busted when he went back to his body. The voices around him laughed, their vague shapes shifting in the dark.

_ He cannot hear us. We do not permit it. _

Luke paused, looking around again. He swore he could almost see faces now, but it was too dark to say for certain. Their words gave the impression that whatever this was, they were not fond of the Emperor, and just the thought was enough to make the voices around him hiss in rage, the space around him trembling.

_ He corrupts the teachings of the Sith. He is a pretender that insults our legacy. _

Curiosity gnawed at the back of Luke’s mind. He knew he should not be, that there was nothing of a Jedi’s path to be found here, and he should just step away. The only thing that had him stay was the worry of how the Emperor would react, but also… to understand what the Dark really was, not from Palpatine’s twisted point of view. It was  _ very  _ tempting…

_ You seek knowledge… _

Luke jerked in surprise at being called out, his head whipping around uselessly. He swore he could see eyes glowing in the dark, but it seemed more a trick of his own mind than reality.

_ We like this one. You, we will teach. You, we want to survive the parasite. _

Luke started at that; parasite? Were they referring to the Emperor? An unsettling hiss went through the darkness, and Luke felt himself shuddering, realizing that there was more of those ancient souls around him now.

_ The pretender manipulates the Force in others. He is capable of consuming souls, allowing him to take the vessel for himself. This is what he wishes of you; your power will only make it easier for him to do so. _

A cold feeling settled over Luke, and though he was only a sense of himself at the moment, he hugged his arms to his chest. Even if he could not sense to truth in their words, it made sense that Palpatine was encouraging his power for the purpose of taking it for himself. But to take his body as well? How was he supposed to fight against that? Did anyone else even know he could do that?

_ We can show you how to resist him. We will rise back to the surface with you. We will teach you what he cannot. _

Luke let out a shuddering breath, nodding absently. What choice did he have at this point? His stupidity had landed him right in the hands of someone that could just take over his body apparently. What else did he have to lose? Even as he thought it, he felt fear creeping up his spine, and he tried desperately to keep it at bay.

_ Do not suppress your fear. To fear a thing is to respect it, to understand the danger it represents.  _ Fear  _ what the pretender can do, and move on to  _ learn  _ what he can do. Only through such understanding can you see the weaknesses he has. _

That already made infinitely more sense than the purpose of fear the Emperor had been preaching. He nodded, committing the words to memory, though he did not have long to dwell on it. The darkness around him closed in, and for a moment, Luke felt like he could not breathe as whatever was responsible for those voices invaded his very sense of self, dimming his light and drowning him in the dark…

And then, he was staring at the floor of the Emperor’s throne room, the darkness receding and leaving his light alone. Yet he could still  _ feel  _ it, churning within him, waiting for him to call on it. He let out a groan, lifting himself carefully from the floor, looking up to see that the Emperor was staring at him,  _ smiling. _

“Master…?”

The Emperor stirred at that, as if not realizing what he had been doing. After a moment, he settled back against the throne, looking extraordinarily pleased.

“You are doing quite well, my young apprentice,” he intoned softly. “Perhaps soon, you will be ready for that which you desire…”

~.oOOo.~

His eyes had turned the same blood shot yellow as the Emperor.

Luke stood in front of the mirror in the quarters he had been given — just a step up from the cell he had been in, as if a reminder of how he was nothing to the Empire at the moment. It took all the effort he had in him not to be sick, despite the assurances in the back of his mind that it was only temporary. He did not want to look like him, did not want to have anything tying him to the decrepit old corpse, not when he knew what the old man had in store for him.

He dipped his head down, covering his face with a hand, desperately trying to quash his despair, but… somehow it suddenly felt magnified. Someone else’s pain was echoing out to him through the Force, as if in response to his, and he fell still, for a moment reaching out through the darkness, trying to see who it was and why he could feel them so clearly. It was a moment before he saw her, shining in blue tinged white like when he had first seen her, and he felt his breath freeze in his throat. Why…?

_ “Luke?” _ Leia’s soft voice echoed through the darkness, reaching out to his cracked and damaged light.  _ “Luke, is that you?” _

“Leia?” he began, not even sure how to respond. How could he even hear her? How could they connect like this? Unless Leia was Force sensitive herself, but while they shared a bond, they were not that close for something like this…

Unless that bond was more than what it seemed…

Luke reached out, trying to find just where that bond really led… only to immediately recoil when he saw, terrified for her. He shoved her away as hard as he could, hoping against hope that the Emperor was not paying attention to this.

“Don’t follow me,” he begged her, pulling the darkness close around his light. “I need to do this on my own.”

_ “Do what?” _ her voice demanded, but the darkness swallowed everything; the voices that dwelt inside of him sprang to life in the dark, forming a wall around him to keep her safe from accidentally connecting with him again. The connection still left Luke shaken, and as his twisted visage in the mirror returned to his sight, he wobbled in place, before collapsing to his knees.

He had a  _ sister. _

_ He will want her. Want her for terrible things. _

Luke nodded in agreement at the voice in his head, fighting against the urge to be sick. If Palpatine got his hands on her…

_ She is with the Chosen. She is safe with her father. _

“I won’t let the Emperor touch her, regardless,” Luke hissed in response, though the fact that Leia was with their father, even unknowingly, brought a morbid sense of relief.

_ Then snap his fingers. _

Luke resisted the urge to let out a snort, especially as he felt Palpatine’s summons poke at the forefront of his mind. As strange of a sense of humor the darkness within him had, it brought a bit of comfort to the whole messed up situation.

~.oOOo.~

Luke had long lost track of how long he had been under the wing of both the Emperor and the voices of the dark that were hanging out within him. He was pretty sure that it only felt longer than it actually had been, but he still felt like he had been swallowed by darkness for ages, never again to see the light of the sun.

It was made worse when Palpatine gave him a white, featureless mask to wear, as if completely wiping any sense of identity he had left to him. He wore it without complaint, of course — complaining would have been the worst thing he could have done — but there was no means to see beyond the mask. It forced him to perfect Force Sight in order to just get around, though it had not taken him long to do so, mostly because he was not in the mood to hear the darkness laughing at him every time he crashed into something. Still, it left him seeing the world in shades of grey, as Force Sight did not exactly process color the same way as human eyes did.

He struggled not to let it get to him, instead focus on other things the mask allowed him to do, like make it easier to erect a mental wall around himself, making it easier to keep out voices that he did not want to bother him, and — as much as he hated it — it helped him distance himself from the terrible things Palpatine forced him to do.

There were many of the Emperor’s little “tests”; most of them involving bringing in captured members of the Rebellion, questioning them personally, before ordering Luke to kill them. He hated every single test, but he forced himself to go through with them, if only because what would happen if he did not would be far, far worse. The first thing he did when he found out these tests were going to be a normal event was learn how to cut off a person’s ability to feel pain. It was the least kindness he could offer before snapping their necks, despite how much he wished there was something more he could do.

After one of those many times, Palpatine bade him to sit on the floor beside him, and he did so, tolerating the touch on his head, like he was some kind of  _ pet.  _ Whispered hisses, encouraging him to let the Emperor have it, echoed in his head, and he was not entirely sure if it was the darkness or his own thoughts. Still, he forced them into silence as he reached up, taking off his mask as he watched the remains of the man he was forced to kill were taken away.

“What are you thinking, my young apprentice?” the Emperor asked, even though Luke knew he could pluck that information from his head without the mask helping him keep his mind barricaded. Still, he did not hesitate in answering:

“When will you have me truly prove myself, master?”

He felt Palpatine’s suspicion rolling off of him almost immediately.

“Whatever do you mean, child?”

“Vader.”

It was easy to summon up enough venom to spit out his father’s name. All he had to do was focus on his hate; the hate he learned to acknowledge, to identify the sources of and direct at. He hated what his father had become, hated what drove him to it. It was easy to focus on that hate, turning his gaze up to the twisted man beside him, letting him soak in that hatred and completely miss that  _ he  _ was the ultimate reason for it.

“He is my last test, isn’t he, master?”

Palpatine’s hand stilled, and this time instead of suspicion, he was met with curiosity. The Emperor hesitated a moment, before leaning back on his throne, and Luke knew a lesson was about to start.

“Look to the Force, my young apprentice,” he ordered. “Let it flow through you, let it show you what is to come.”

Luke tilted his head curiously, before closing his eyes, focusing on the Force. It answered him readily, surging around him and opening up before him, flipping through many, many images of possible events. He tried to reach out, tried to get it to slow down, and the darkness surged in response, forcing everything to fall still.

_ Foresight is a useless skill,  _ came the hissed voices of his true teachers.  _ The future is always in motion. To see it is to make it so. _

Luke paused, an idea worming its way into his head. He reached around the dark, plucking out an image that he knew Palpatine would want to see, before projecting it outward. He opened his eyes in the next moment, a satisfied smile plastering itself onto his face.

“He will come to me,” he answered, “and when he does, I will kill him.”

He watched Palpatine carefully, taking in the pleased noise he let out. Had… had it really worked? Had he really manipulated the Emperor’s own ability to see the future?

“And then what, my young apprentice?”

He had him.

To fear, to properly fear a thing and not be consumed by said fear, was to respect a thing. That respect led to understanding of the danger it represented… and also understanding of how it  _ worked.  _ At last, Luke understood the Emperor, had seen his weakness, and now knew how to exploit it.

“Isn’t that for you to decide, my master?” he asked in answer, determined to manipulate the man’s arrogance for all it was worth.

~.oOOo.~

His father had formed an alliance with the Rebellion.

Luke knew it was ridiculously dangerous for him to sneak intelligence reports, that each nudge of the Force against a weak minded operative could give him away, but this had been worth it. His eyes scanned the report again and again, feeling his heart in his throat with each read. Vader had abandoned the fleet. Vader was in the company of known Rebel collaborators. And he knew  _ why;  _ knew that the only reason Vader would ever take such a drastic step toward open defiance was because of  _ him. _

He clutched the datapad to his chest, feeling tears running down his face. Part of him had hoped that through all of this, he might be able to save his father. He never imagined  _ this. _

He could feel the darkness within him trying to give him a respectful amount of space, to let him have his emotional moment. It made it easier to sense the Emperor’s presence approaching the throne, the shadow of which he had grown accustomed to hiding himself in. He shoved the datapad back into his robes, quickly pulling down his mask and allowing himself to wrap himself tightly in the darkness just as Palpatine came into the room. The Emperor was clearly aware of his presence, but did not acknowledge it, sitting down on his throne without even looking in his direction, a troubled cloud hovering over him.

Luke knew the reason for his mood; the future had become clouded for him, the pages of possibility a collective smear, blurring and blending until it was impossible to say for sure what would happen. He knew it was his own meddling that had caused it, but he had to marvel at how  _ dependent  _ he was on his foresight, how desperate he was for every aspect of the future to be known and to work in his favor.

_ He is weak,  _ a voice hissed in his ear.  _ His plots and plans all depend on being able to see the possibilities. _

It was kind of sad, really. If the man had not been responsible for so many atrocities, Luke may have pitied him. At the very least, a little bit of guilt crept up his spine as he emerged from the shadows, bowing formally before sinking to his knees, knowing as he took off his mask that he was deliberately manipulating a sick old man.

“You understand what I want for you, don’t you, my young apprentice?” the Emperor challenged him.

“I do, my master,” he answered softly.

“And how did you come to realize this?”

“I saw it.”

It was a risky gamble to declare he had seen something the Emperor had not, especially as simply as he said it, as if it was not a big deal. Still, the old man seemed pleased with his response, and so Luke pressed on:

“You have given me everything you know, and more than that. Any other master would have given me a name by now, but you have a higher honor for me.”

He kept his gaze on the Emperor as he spoke, and as he did so, could see everything the man was thinking laid out before him. Luke could see the future he wanted, and he grasped onto it, bringing it to light.

“I have no name, because I will have yours,” he stated, making it a reality for Palpatine. “When I execute Vader, I will be ready for you to consume ‘me’ and take my body, my master. The galaxy will be eternally yours.”

He bowed his head at that, slipping his mask back on, if only to hide the disgusted look on his face. Soon… soon he would not have to keep up this act anymore, though there was a part of him that was scared just how badly this was going to affect him long term.

“Then, my young apprentice,” the Emperor began, dragging his focus back to the present, “we should not delay in drawing out the traitor…”

If his father was anything like him, he suspected he already had a bold, crazy plan ready to take the fight directly to Coruscant. All Luke needed to do was pull together the right people that would give Lord Vader support, and wait. A small smile came to his face, but he refused to feel relief just yet.

Soon, though;  _ soon. _

~.oOOo.~

The first thing Luke did as soon as he had the opportunity to slip out from under Palpatine’s radar was contact the 501st. They were Vader’s personal, hand picked troops, loyal to the point of fanaticism and just as deadly. When told of what Vader was doing, the doubt was immediately clear: why would Vader betray the Empire? The suggestion that he was not betraying the Empire, merely looking out for the interests of the  _ people  _ rather than just the Emperor was easy to plant in their heads, and they just accepted it, coming from the mouth of “one of Vader’s servants”. It did not take long for dissent to spread like wildfire through the ranks, and Luke quickly understood the scope of just how  _ big  _ the 501st was. Platoons that fell under Vader’s Fist banner were stationed all over the Imperial fleet and army, and just a little bit of maneuvering allowed him to move around troops and officers, bringing them to Coruscant and the home fleet.

Not to say there was not any that challenged his word. When the internal Rebellion spread as far as the “secret” Super Star Destroyer project, the  _ Executor,  _ he was contacted by the captain assigned to the vessel. Piett was a sharp man, probably the most competent man on the ship if what he had heard of Ozzel and Tagge was anything to be believed. He would not just take the word of a “servant” that this was what Vader wanted; he wanted more  _ proof. _

So he told him the truth; that he was Vader’s son.

Barely a day later, an “unfortunate” accident befell Ozzel and Tagge.

Such reports were numerous as the troops rebelled in Vader’s name, and were easy enough to push under the rug, to keep them from the Emperor’s notice. The man was so focused on his own matters that the fate of normal men meant little to him, and reports of unusual deaths that did make their way to him were usually waved off with a dismissive word. Such an attitude only aided in the support Luke had from the troops, to the point where when Vader  _ did  _ make his move, there was little resistance for the Rebellion to encounter.

Luke let out a breath when the squads that was sent to aid the Rebels smuggling themselves onto the planet reported in, relieved that there were no casualties so far. He wanted nothing more than to join them, but he had his own role to play. If he did not put on the elaborate performance the Emperor wanted, then the man would not be distracted enough for when the rest of the fleet arrived to beat down whatever home ships managed to avoid internal capture.

So he stood at the entrance to the palace, waiting for when his father finally arrived, with Leia by his side. Seeing them together made a lump form in his throat, one he had trouble swallowing around, but no matter how much he wanted to run over and hug them both, he kept himself rooted to the spot until Han and a woman he did not know dragged Leia off.

Leaving Luke and his father alone.

He could feel the anticipation of a fight and the reluctance that came with it. As much as he wanted to reassure his father that everything was fine, he knew he could not. He turned on his heel instead, heading into the palace, pausing only to look back once to make sure Vader knew he was to follow.

The path up to the Emperor’s throne was unnervingly silent, the tension that hung between them hovering thickly in the air. Luke wanted nothing more than to assure him everything would be  _ fine,  _ he had taken care of everything, but anything Vader did out of character would draw suspicion that neither of them needed.

Once they got to the throne room, Luke continued right up to the Emperor’s seat as was expected of him, while his father stopped at the bottom of the dais. He could sense the disgust from his father as he knelt, something that multiplied when the Emperor pet his head demeaningly. He could not help but smile beneath his mask as he caught the mental image of Vader wringing Palpatine’s neck; he shared the feeling, more than his father realized at the moment.

“I’m surprised at you, my old friend,” Palpatine sneered, continuing to stroke his head like he was a pet. “I did not imagine you still capable of such initiative. Rallying the Rebellion to directly assault Imperial Center, all because you realized you were being replaced?”

“You  _ know _ the real reason I am here,  _ Sidious,”  _ Vader hissed in return, and as he ignited his lightsaber, Luke could sense a protective feeling reaching out, wrapping around him and trying to yank him away from the Emperor. It made Luke want to cry, driving home the fact that his father, despite all the evil he had done, despite how tight of a hold the Emperor once had on him, broke away and  _ moved the galaxy  _ in his effort to save him.

He felt Palpatine lift his hand in the next moment, and Luke looked up to see him reach into his robes, pulling out his father’s old lightsaber.  _ That’s  _ where it had been; he was worried the Emperor had destroyed it. Then again, the twisted man  _ would  _ have thought it poetic that “Vader” be killed by “Anakin’s” weapon.

“Come, my young apprentice,” Palpatine entreated him softly as Luke accepted the weapon. “It is time for the final test you’ve longed for.”

Luke could sense his father’s reluctance as he rose to his feet; he did not want to fight him, not again, and Luke did not want to either. But they had a part to play, and unfortunately, he knew what would get his father riled up enough to play it.

“As you wish, my master,” he said, and immediately felt Vader’s mood shift to unbridled  _ rage. _

Luke ignited his lightsaber, bathing the dais in its blue light, before he took a running leap off of it. Vader raised his own as he came down, the two weapons clashing loudly. Luke pushed off quickly, barely giving himself time to land, before he was on his father, striking out with such a flurry of blows that the massive man was actually struggling to keep up with him. Eventually, his father had to push away from him, his respirator struggling.

“The Emperor has lied to you, boy,” he said, his breath wheezing through the ventilator. “He will give you nothing he’s promised you.”

No kidding; the sarcastic comment was hard to keep back, and so instead he pressed his attack, driving his father back further. His reluctance to fight was becoming more and more apparent the more he struck out at him, and it made Luke’s heart ache.

“Listen to me, child!” he hissed, narrowly blocking a blow aimed for his head, and Luke was not sure if he could keep the fight up believably without hurting him. He needed something to spark his father’s anger to the point he could fight for real; he could already feel the Emperor getting bored with the display so far.

“I know very well what my master wishes of me,” he finally replied, careful to keep his voice emotionless. “That is why I have no name. When I destroy you, I will be his.”

That did it; Luke felt his father’s anger spike so sharply, he almost broke character to step away in alarm. Vader went in for the attack then, striking out so hard and fast that Luke could not keep up. He had all of a second to think that he  _ may  _ have made a mistake, when his lightsaber was knocked out of his hands, sent skittering across the floor and out of sight. He stumbled back, tripping over his robes and the dais, landing roughly on the steps as Vader raised his blade—

“Father, stop!”

_ Leia. _

Vader froze, turning toward where Leia was standing by the entrance to the room in surprise, taking his attention off of him. He was not the only one; she had the Emperor’s attention as well, and Luke very nearly gagged as he felt the terrible thoughts worming from his head. Things were going to go south really fast now that Leia was here; he had to end this before she was put in danger.

He extended a hand, focusing on the Force within himself, and bringing it out, channeling it through his fingers. A blast of lightning burst out, carefully just strong enough to force his father’s systems into a reboot cycle. Vader let out a pained cry as he fell to his knees, and Luke winced as he stood, mentally apologizing, even if no one could hear it.

Palpatine cackled from above them, applauding the display in utter, dark  _ glee. _

“Good,” he hissed. “You are  _ powerful, _ my young apprentice.”

The Emperor paused, his gaze flicking to Leia, and Luke could guess the plans he was forming in that sick mind of his. He pushed the thought out of his head, his gaze focusing on her as she stood her grown, glaring daggers at the old corpse. Her gaze flicked to him after a moment, seemingly looking right at him, quietly acknowledging that she knew what he was doing was all an act. He also knew that look meant he was in  _ so much trouble  _ later on, and Luke almost gulped nervously.

“Now, child, remove your mask,” Palpatine sneered, returning his focus back to him. “Let the traitor see my new face before he dies.”

Luke nodded absently, carefully keeping an eye on where the Emperor’s focus was in the Force as he knelt down before Vader. As he reached to remove the mask, he could feel Palpatine’s focus shift entirely to his father, like he wanted to make certain to remember the moment forever.

Or at least as long as he was going to live.

Luke let his hand holding the mask drop as he looked at his father, knowing he had to have looked terrible. The last time he had cared to look at his blood shot, yellow eyed gaze in the mirror, it looked like he had not slept in months, maybe even years for all he knew; his sense of time was that distorted by the darkness he carried within him. Still, he gave his father the most reassuring smile he could, silently insisting that everything would be all right, before he pressed his free hand to the ground, closing his eyes as he focused.

The darkness he had carried within him for who knew how long suddenly left him, leaving a gaping hole in his soul as it shot out of him, roaring through the Force. The dark hit the dias and  _ exploded,  _ the entire palace shuddering as the attack acted like a beacon, gathering the rest of the slumbering darkness deep within the bowels of the planet to that specific point. Luke shuddered at the sudden loss, and the deep, penetrating cold of rage that engulfed the room, yet despite how much he wanted to collapse, he forced himself to his feet, turning to the Emperor’s throne.

Perhaps it was because he had carried them for so long, but he could see the true form of the darkness now. What had once been human and alien had long twisted into some amalgamation of a joined sentience, tendrils and limbs and a host of nightmarish faces swallowing the form of the Emperor. Palpatine looked like he was suffocating to the point he could not even scream, the Force being sucked out of him before he could even reach to it to make it all stop.

Luke glanced to the side, locating where his lightsaber had fallen and calling it to his hand before he ascended the stairs. He reached a hand out, pressing it against the wall of darkness and focusing, destroying the Emperor’s power bit by painful bit as he had been taught since taking the dark into himself, his eyes focused on the old corpse as he glared back at him, like he was silently cursing his name.

A name he did not even know.

He smiled almost sweetly as he reached through the darkness, stroking the Emperor’s cheek like he had done so many times to him. The old man tried to jerk away, and Luke could not help but feel a sort of vicious satisfaction, part of him wanting to ask if it made him feel  _ uncomfortable. _

“My name,” he finally said instead, “is Luke Skywalker.”

He brought his lightsaber up quickly at that, flicking on the blade as he brought it down, cleaving through Palpatine’s neck. The Force  _ burst  _ as the darkness within the Emperor was let loose, and Luke was forced to drop the blade, lifting his hands as he pushed back against that power, doing everything he could to destroy it. He felt himself being pushed back, and then  _ shoved  _ as the souls of those long gone converged on what was left of Palpatine. He stumbled down the stairs, almost falling ungracefully to the floor, only to be caught in a firm embrace from behind.

His father continued to hold onto him tightly as they watched the darkness slowly burn away, leaving only a dried up, headless husk behind. Luke did not dare to breathe until he saw the head, having landed neatly on the throne, staring sightlessly back at him.

“It’s over…” he finally breathed out, sagging in his father’s arms.

_ You did well,  _ the voice of the darkness rang in his head, sounding satisfied.  _ The galaxy can heal now. Pass on what you have learned here. _

Luke let out a soft breath as he felt the spirits of old retreat, returning to their resting place. The Force, and everything around him, was silent once more, and he could feel the hollow gap within his soul from their presence slowly starting to mend itself back together.

He felt his father’s arms loosen after a moment, and he turned back to him, blue eyes looking up at that mask he used to fear. A weak smile came to his face, trying desperately to think of something to say.

“Father, I—”

That was as far as he got before he was grabbed again, pulled close in a tight embrace.

“You foolish boy,” his voice rumbled in his ear, and Luke let out a breath, sagging against his father as he brought his arms up, clinging to his cape.


	5. Epilogue

Luke removed the outer layer of his robes as they stood a safe distance from what remained of the Imperial Palace, letting the wind whipped up by the explosion take it into the fires. With the Emperor dead, the reminder of his legacy needed to go with it, and he was more than happy to see it all come crumbling down. They would rebuild over time, but for now, no one needed the reminder of the hate and sorrow that persisted for the last twenty years.

Rebels and Imperials alike stood around the flaming remains, helmets off, talking amicably about what would happen next. He could see Wedge with a stick of some kind of gooey food, edging as close as he could to shove it toward the heat, several others cheering him on. The display drew a strange sound from his father next to him, and Luke looked up to see Vader folding his arms over his chest.

“I question your choice of friends, Luke,” he said, and Luke could not help but grin.

“They’re good people,” he assured him. He thought for certain his father would object to that, but he merely allowed his arms to fall to his sides, and Luke got the distinct impression he was smiling.

“So I have noticed,” he finally replied softly.

A moment passed before he felt a heavy hand settle on his shoulder. Luke looked up to his father, realizing that anyone that saw them would probably think them an odd sight, but he did not care. He survived and succeeded in what he wanted to do. The Emperor was dead, and his father was by his side.

Everything was just as he had foreseen.


End file.
